Once Predator, Now Prey
by Sweet Little Mary Sue
Summary: One moment she was hidden, with a hardened criminal in her sights, then she was gone in a flash of light, awaking as she plummeted toward the surface of a strange planet, one of many rounded up to be hunted and killed for sport. Soon she and the others find themselves embroiled in a struggle for survival, both from the alien creatures stalking them and from one another...Royce/OC.
1. Ensnared

Once Predator, Now Prey

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: One moment she was hidden, with a hardened criminal in her sights, then she was gone in a flash of light, awaking as she plummeted toward the surface of a strange planet, one of many rounded up to be hunted and killed for sport. Soon she and the others find themselves embroiled in a struggle for survival, both from the alien creatures stalking them and from one another. Does Desma have what it takes to survive, without risking her humanity, or will she be defeated in the end?

Disclaimer: I can't claim ownership of anything related to the Predator universe…I'm just borrowing a little here and there to tell this story. The only thing that I can claim is Desma and her family.

Author's Note: I personally love the character of Isabelle in _Predators_, and longed for a continuation of her story with Royce, but I always use my own characters in my stories, hence the introduction of Desma, who will fill-in as the Isabelle character, with a few differences here and there, to make her my own.

Warnings: This story is rated M for violence, cursing, and sexual innuendo.

Chapter One

Ensnared

Desma's POV

Rodney Milner had no idea that he was about to die, otherwise he surely wouldn't be standing around, vigorously picking treasures out of his nose while simultaneously scratching his left butt cheek. These were behaviors that were favored by the male of my species, especially when they thought that they were alone, and there was no need for them to pretend that they had good manners for the benefit of others, mostly the female of my species.

But Rodney wasn't alone…I was with him, watching him, making ready the shot that would pierce his heart and kill him instantly, a much more humane death than a monster like him deserved, but one that had been declared necessary by three generations of the Reed family, all of whom had stepped in to take up a rifle, to offer justice to those whose families had been destroyed, when the legal system failed to do so.

Don't get me wrong…there were none of us that believed that our work was sacred, or that we were on a mission from God, no, this was something that had been started by my grandfather Zedekiah after his oldest child, Katriel, was raped and murdered by a group of men who'd been acquitted by the offering of a flimsy alibi from a well-respected member of the community…a well-respected member of the community who had each and every one of the men on trial on his payroll.

Grandpapa had always been a law-abiding, God-fearing man up until that point, when the justice system failed him and his family so miserably, and then he stopped believing that it was wrong for a man to take the law into his own hands. Katriel had been a bright, beautiful young woman, sixteen years old, with her whole life ahead of her and those fiends had made her suffer horribly before they killed her, just for a little sport with a girl whose family had no money, no connections to fall back on, and were therefore vulnerable.

My grandfather started to fear for his daughter Sarina, fourteen years old and just as beautiful as Katriel had been. If those men had taken one daughter from him, who was to say that they wouldn't do the same to the other. He also saw how these men taunted my father whenever they saw him out and about, headed to school, or down to the river to fish, and he saw the flash of fury that filled my father's eyes, and knew that his son wouldn't be able to control his temper for very long. He was young, my father was, only twelve, but that fact wouldn't stop those men from beating him to death if he ever gave them an opening to do so, and Grandpapa knew that something had to be done, and if the law wasn't on his side then he'd just have to do it himself.

He'd moved carefully, but quickly, dispatching each and every man who'd taken part in the defilement of his child…along with the bigwig who'd provided an alibi for the men he'd known were rapists and murderers. A lot of time passed by and Grandpapa made his peace with God for the murders he'd committed…only to see examples here and there where others were left in the same place that he'd been, grieving both over the loss of a loved one and the fact that those responsible would never be made to pay for their crimes.

He knew that it wasn't right to take another's life, he knew that murder was a sin, but he also knew the depth of the pain involved with having a beloved family member violently taken from your grasp, and thus the family business had been born, a nonprofit, vigilante system of justice that served the needs of all of those who'd been screwed over by the court of law, and who were left with no other option but to take matters into their own hands, then place them into Grandpapa's, followed by my father Japheth, and now into mine.

Papa hadn't been blessed with any boys, so the role that he'd filled from the age of twenty-one would have to go to one of his daughters instead. I was the oldest at twenty-three, followed by Thea, who was twenty, and the baby, Zoya, who was seventeen. They had no clue whatsoever what it was that Papa did in his spare time, his other "job", the one that didn't involve the official family business, which was the tiny pizzeria that we all worked at six days out of the week. No one knew our secret…not even Mama.

After he told me the truth, after I learned what he expected of me, I stayed mad at him for an entire month, refusing to speak to him, or even to look at him. I'd flirted with the notion of turning him in to the authorities, I'd accused him of being no better than those he hunted and killed, and to my surprise he'd absorbed my fury and my outrage, and had told me that everything that I'd said was true. He said that there was no righteousness to be found in what he did, but there was a grim satisfaction in telling the family that you are working for that the scum who shattered their world wouldn't be free to do it to anyone else…he explained each facet of what he did…and then he took me to meet the Harper family.

* * *

I remembered back on all of the lessons that my father had taught me as I lined up my first kill in my sights. It was hard to steady my breathing, because it was running fast, along with my heart, but I made the effort none the less. If I didn't calm down I was liable to start sweating, perspiration that might run into my eyes and make them burn, making it necessary for me to take my eyes…and my rifle…off of the target, which might in turn lose me the chance to deal with him right away, and another day would be lost while I waited for the next opportunity…so I had to calm down…I had no other choice.

Suddenly my target froze, his finger firmly rooted in his nostril, his other hand stationary on his buttock, paused in mid-scratch, and for one awful moment I thought that he'd somehow spotted me, or that maybe his innate sense of self-preservation had kicked in…either way he was staring in my direction, as if somehow he'd looked through the veil of branches that surrounded me, within the camouflage that covered my body and the paint that blended my face with the surroundings…as though he could see me, with his naked eye, from three hundred yards away.

Dear God…I couldn't do this with him looking at me. It would be hard enough as it was, working past my fear and the nausea that rose again and again inside of me, convincing me that there was no way that I would be able to accomplish my task without tossing my cookies. Papa assured me that it got easier, that soon it became almost a second nature in your life and of all the things that he'd said lately that disturbed me, that one definitely took the cake. Taking a person's life, no matter how miserable and abominable that existence was, should _never_ come as a second nature to anyone…lest you become just like the monsters that you have dedicated yourself to hunting.

I waited for him to snap out of his reverie, but if anything the look on his face changing from one of wonder and confusion to an expression of outright fear…only he wasn't looking in my direction anymore. His gaze seemed to have shifted to a spot right behind me, and after several seconds passed by with me watching his terror grow and grow I forgot about the necessity to remain motionless and slowly turned to look behind me.

Several words came to mind to describe what it was that I was seeing, but none of them should have been possible. A giant ship was lowering out of the sky, stopping to hover right above the tree tops, disturbing them, making them sway crazily from side to side. What appeared to be lightning danced along the surface of the enormous vessel, which was visible one moment, then hidden the next and I watched it, mesmerized, terrified, not breaking eye contact until I heard the panicked shrieks of Rodney Milner as he finally came to his senses and ran pell-mell back toward the safety of his house, leaving me alone with what appeared to be an alien spacecraft…if such a thing were even possible.

For one hysterical moment I considered making a mad dash myself, no doubt I'd be able to outrun my prey easily enough, but before I could move I found myself bathed in a bright flash of light, a blinding, frightening luminance that came from within the strange craft and I felt myself being lifted into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly, and then everything went dark…and I knew no more.

* * *

There had been many times in my life that I'd found myself woken from a sound sleep, convinced that I was falling from a great height, jumping and hitting my mattress, waking with my heart racing, cold sweat all over my body, nearly sobbing with relief to discover that it had all been a bad dream…but this was not one of those times. No matter how I twisted and pumped my legs, I couldn't find my mattress…and I knew then that this wasn't a dream…I was falling, plummeting to the earth.

Everything in me wanted to release my terror in the form of a scream, but again I was reminded of my childhood, of awaking from a nightmare, an all too frequent occurrence, doing my best to call for my mom, needing her near me to soothe away the fears that had taken hold of me, only to find that I couldn't summon a scream no matter how desperately I tried. This was that moment all over again…mouth opened, throat working…but no sound. I felt tears leaking from my eyes as I clawed at the foreign object on my chest and discovered straps that were holding something on my back, a something that I hadn't placed there…a parachute…which meant that I still had a chance.

I couldn't begin to understand why I had a parachute strapped to my back, let alone who had put it there, because I knew good and well that it hadn't been me. It was a mystery, one that I was profoundly grateful for, just as I was thankful for the fact that I had awakened cradling my papa's old Heckler and Koch safely in my arms. Lord only knew who…or what…I might encounter when I landed, that was, if I survived the fall, and it was nice to know that I was armed with more than my wits, if circumstances demanded that I would have to defend myself.

I searched in vain for the lever that would open the chute, the one that would save my life, but my search was fruitless. All that I could find was a large button, and nothing happened, no matter how hard I hit it. A sob welled up in me, escaping in a pitiful keening sound as the ground grew closer and closer. I was going to die…I'd never fallen in love, never had children of my own…and now I was going to die.

I was close enough now that I could see a seemingly unending forest below me, growing more and more clear, and just when I'd given up the last shred of hope that I'd stubbornly been clinging to, the button on the chute flashed red and emitted a sound that grew in frequency and urgency, and the salvation I'd thought was lost to me flew out of the pack, lifting me just a little, but not enough to have a significant effect on the speed with which I was dropping to the ground.

Wasn't that a pisser…all of that drama, followed by a split-second of relief, and here I was, about to die anyway…that sucked nuts, plain and simple.

Royce's POV

There are several ways that I enjoy being awakened suddenly from a deep and peaceful sleep. Most of them involve a naked and eager woman, well-trained in the art of thoroughly pleasing a man in any way that he desires, a couple involved the mouthwatering aroma of food or drink, and one very secret pleasure was the soft, warm tongue of a playful puppy, swiping right across my cheek. All of these were pleasant ways to be stirred from the rare occasion of a thorough slumber…hurtling toward the earth at a rapid rate of speed, however, did _not_ qualify as either pleasant or enjoyable, which was probably why it disturbed me to awaken to find myself in that exact circumstance, and what's more, why I chose to waste my time and energy on a good shouting fest as the ground rushed closer and closer to greet me.

I couldn't remember much at that moment, just a remnant here and there of the mission that I'd been on, then a blinding flash of light. None of that made any sense to me, it made even less sense why I was falling out of the damned sky, with what seemed to be a parachute strapped to my back and Liv slung across my shoulder…wait a minute…I had a parachute strapped to my back…maybe I'd be able to limp away from this after all.

I couldn't find the lever that I would pull to engage my chute, and shouting again, this time in frustration, I pounded on the button that was resting where the damned lever ought to have been…nothing…followed by more pummeling, but to no avail. No matter how much I abused the thing it remained unresponsive, and the ground was pretty close now…close enough that I was seriously beginning to panic…shit…I was going to die…I hadn't gotten laid in six months and I was fixing to die…that was messed up, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

It seemed like the perfect time to try and make things right, before I took my last breath and all, but I knew that there was too much that I needed to account for, and it would take too long…besides which, I'd gone through life all of these years never saying that I was sorry to anyone, for anything, so why the hell should I start now?

Have you ever had those moments in your life when you figured that this moment was that one where it was all over with, only to have life let you in on the fact that it was just messing with you, just having a good laugh? Kind of pisses you off, doesn't it…anger that's followed immediately by an overwhelming relief that's so profound that it almost makes you want to cry…that's what I felt when that button on my chute turned red and started making all kind of racket…intense anger, followed by a consuming sense of relief…that was until I looked down and saw how much closer the ground was in relation to my plunging body.

The chute sprang open, which would have been good news, had I not been right above some sort of seemingly endless forest at that point…long story short, what was the use at that moment? Halle-freakin'-lujah…my chute opened, but I was willing to bet that it was a little too late to do me any good, considering the fact that I was almost on the ground anyway…I'd always been what some would call a pessimist, but which I've always considered to be a realist…I was screwed, plain and simple.

There would be some who would also feel that it was necessary to point out that the late springing chute _did _help to slow the rate with which I crashed through, and continued to make my way through, very painfully I might add, a cluster of trees. These same helpful assholes would probably feel that it was their duty in life to point out to me that the trees, agonizing though they were to travel through, had also aided me in the deceleration of my descent, to which I'd have to wish them a very abusive, very sarcastic word of thanks…that is, if I didn't succumb to my injuries first.

While we're on the subject of pain, which has taken the lead as the thought plaguing my mind as the seconds fly by before I say hi to the ground by plowing into its surface, have you ever noticed that it always feels worse when you know what is fixing to happen, when you ready yourself by tensing every muscle in your body? You try to tell your body to relax, that it won't be as bad if you're loosened up, and your body responds with something along the lines of "you're joking…right?" and proceeds to make itself as tight as it possibly can…I _hate _that…but that's exactly what I was doing as I made my way through the trees.

I started to count as I got closer to the ground, _why_, you might ask? Hell if I know…all I knew was that I hit before I made it to the double digits, and had only a brief moment to lose myself in the pain of it all, as my breath whooshed out of my body, as everything went dark once more, and then I lost all awareness of anything and everything.

Looks like it was time for me to sleep again…I could only hope that the next awakening would be better than this one was.


	2. Encounters

Chapter Two

Encounters

Royce's POV

I woke with a start, gasping and pawing at the unfamiliar ground beneath me, experiencing a brief moment of outright panic as I tried to remember where I was, how I'd got there, and why in hell my body was aching from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, like someone had taken a stick and gave me a vicious and thorough beating for one infraction or another. It felt like the back of my body had taken the brunt of the abuse, the pain there was so intense that it brought tears to my eyes, and it all came back to me as I struggled to breathe, awaking as I fell through the air, with a parachute that had come from God only knows where strapped to my back, a damned chute that had waited until the last minute to open, which meant that I'd slammed into the ground with more speed than I would have cared for…if I'd cared to do so at all, which I hadn't.

I struggled to roll over onto my back, staring up into the treetops that I'd just come crashing through. It would have been a pretty sight, the whole place kind of had that eerie paradise feel to it, had I not been shanghaied and dropped out of the sky with no explanations of any kind, or even a bid that I kiss whoever's ass it was that I'd pissed off badly enough to land me in the midst of the clusterfuck that I was currently in. Oh, sure…things were fairly calm, for the moment, but I'd been given an innate sense of knowing when the shit was going to hit the fan, and that was the feeling that was currently running up and down the back of my neck.

As much of an effort as it had been to roll over onto my back, it was a breeze in comparison to sitting up, cursing Liv as I did so, something I'd always sworn to myself that I'd never do. She had been with me through thick and thin, saving my life on more occasions than I'd ever be able to recall, but the fact of the matter was that she wasn't the most comfortable surface to crash into…no doubt my back would bear a bruise in her shape. I guess I should just be glad that she was built to last, after this latest in a long line of rough behavior…she was just like a Timex, my Liv was…she could take one hell of a licking and still keep on ticking.

My right arm, my shooting arm, was broken…damn…what a bitch. The worst part was that I had to snap it back into place myself, an action that I'd performed numerous times before, not that it made it any easier, or hurt any less, but I did it anyway. Getting to my feet was easier than it ought to have been, and I quickly shed the chute from my back, looking around at a jungle that I couldn't place in my mind, my stiflingly hot surroundings that were completely foreign to me. It was bad enough, the fall through the sky, the crash into the ground, but this was the icing on the cake, the fact that I had no clue whatsoever where I was or why I was there…or what son of a bitch was responsible for my predicament…shit…I must have really screwed up this time…I'd finally messed with someone who was ready, willing and able to pay me back for it.

I was so wrapped up in my surroundings, and my musings about who it was that might be responsible for my current state of affairs that it kind of took me by surprise…read that to mean that I'd nearly pissed my pants…when suddenly I had company, another body that had dropped out of the sky to land painfully on the jungle floor. He recovered much more quickly than I had, even though the poor bastard had landed on his face rather than his back, and jumped to his feet, brandishing a pair of MP5K submachine guns, which he aimed at my face, shouting about this and that in Spanish.

He was a shorter man, but very powerfully built, with a heavily scarred visage, more than likely the remnants of acne from his youth. It was clear in his eyes, which were wildly swerving from left to right, that he had no idea how he'd come to be where he was either, and also, that like me, he was mad as hell about the whole situation. My commiseration with him was instantaneous, but it did _not_ extend to a point that I was willing to put up with not one, but two firearms being aimed at me however.

"Don't," I said, raising my hand in the air to show him that I didn't want a confrontation of any kind, especially not one that involved gunfire. "Just stay calm, alright?"

"Go fuck yourself," he shouted, clearly not in the mood to calm down, or to trust me either, for that matter. I considered moving my hand to Liv, as I always did when things seemed to be getting hairier than I liked them to be, knowing that she could always be counted on to swing things to where I was the mightier one, though I would have been asking quite a bit from her in this situation, to go head-to-head with twin submachine guns.

"Calm…_down_," I repeated, running my finger all around the trigger on my sidearm, a backup weapon, for when it wasn't as convenient or easy to make a grab for Liv. Dammit…I _really _didn't want to have to kill this guy, but I would do it in a heartbeat, without any hesitation, if my other option was getting mowed down after I'd gone through all the trouble of surviving my fall from the sky.

"Fuck…_you_," he responded, his eyes traveling even more wildly back and forth, making me apply a deeper, more intimate caress to my pistol's trigger. It seemed inevitable at that point…I was going to be left with no choice but to kill this guy…or at least that seemed like the only alternative until some other poor asshole hit the ground between the Mexican and myself, scaring the piss out of _both_ of us in the process.

I raised my eyes heavenward, once I was able to breathe again, that is, and wondered how many more there would be, and would the next one land on top of me and put me out of my misery once and for all, or just wing me, leaving me at the mercy of my fierce looking new friend, and whoever else decided to drop in on us?

The newest member of our little club had experienced a bad trip, no ifs, ands or buts about it. The poor bastard had landed on his stomach, with his left arm at his side, his forearm twisted at such an unnatural angle that it looked like he was trying to grab his elbow, an action that should have never been possible, and would never be, under normal circumstances. It was obvious that both of his legs were shattered at the kneecap, and they stuck out from his body at odd angles, giving him the appearance of a rag doll that someone had dropped on the ground. I couldn't see his face…which was the only saving grace of the whole mucked up situation…but he just looked like a normal guy, a soldier…hell…he could have been anyone.

"I'd say that his chute didn't open," I said, unnecessarily perhaps, but shit…someone had to say something. The Mexican didn't say anything in response, instead he just looked at me, his eyes narrowing, conveying his persistent distrust of me, which made me bite back a smirk. I couldn't say for sure what it was that I found funny, the whole bitch of a position that I found myself in, or just this vicious little man and the looks he kept giving me, but I had a pretty good idea that he wouldn't react well if he knew that I was laughing at him.

I'm not sure what it was that I was expecting would happen next…after the day that I'd had so far, I wouldn't have been surprised to see swarms of locusts accompanied by the plague descending upon me…but I hadn't quite prepared myself for someone, some hidden asshole, to decide that it was the perfect moment, the ideal time, to open fire on me and my hostile Mexican friend…opening fire with what sounded like a M134, or something similar, if you were to ask me for my analysis.

I didn't know who this new person was, but I could tell you one thing about him already…he's a dickhead, plain and simple, because only a dickhead would start tearing up the countryside, trying to annihilate two guys that he's never even met, just because we had the misfortune of being dropped out of the sky in close proximity to where he was resting himself…a dickhead…that's all there was to it.

It made me more than a little angry that I'd had guns pointed at me, and now I had some douchebag that was doing his best to kill me, after the colossally _shitty _day that I was having already. There were probably people in existence who enjoyed being scared to the point where they nearly piss their pants, wackos who enjoyed the feel of their asshole puckering to an extreme that all but assured that it would never ease up its grip, but dammit, I was _not_ one of those people…I didn't get any kicks out of this type of thing…not one damned bit.

I imagine that it would have looked pretty humorous, if you'd been able to watch it from above, as me and the other guy scrambled around, doing our best to avoid getting ourselves mowed in half. The intense guy ran for cover, following me, diving behind a fallen log, while I got Liv ready for action. She was really and truly no match for a M134, so this was going to have to be a sneak attack.

"We're dealing with one shooter," I explained to the Mexican, not knowing, and not caring whether or not he wanted the information. It was mine to give, so I was going to give it to him…it was up to him what he did with it.

"How can you be sure?" he answered, speaking too damned loudly, of course. I might have known that he'd be an inquisitor on top of being distrustful…that was just the kind of day that I was having. I didn't bother answering his question, I was a little too busy knowing that the idiot spraying the land with rounds had to be stopped, and who better to stop him then me…or rather, who else would be dumb enough to volunteer for the job?

I jumped out from behind the fallen log that had acted as our shelter, moving to the side unseen, allowing me to approach the shooter without drawing his attention to the fact that I was making a move against him. It didn't take me long to cross the jungle floor and I stopped off to the side of where he hid, still firing, and took a moment to assess the situation.

I imagined that this was someone who'd arrived in this place in the same manner as I had, and as the Mexican had, therefore I could deduce that he was scared shitless, as we all were, and had decided to go with the option to shoot first and ask questions later, rather than taking the chance that we might be there to harm him. I could understand that logic, after all, it was one hell of a situation to find yourself in, but my understanding didn't mean that I was content to stand by and be taken out by some trigger-happy dickhead, plain and simple…my empathy _did_ have its limits.

My moment came when his relentless hail of bullets came to a stuttering stop, and from what I could see as I approached him, it was clear that his weapon had jammed, which was lucky for both me and my friend, the one who was still wisely hiding behind the fallen log.

I watched this new guy struggling to fix the problem, alternating between grunting and cursing in Russian, pulling the time-honored male tradition of physically abusing the inanimate object that was causing them so much trouble, as if slamming your fist against something will actually solve the problem, rather than just making your hand sore, and I managed to bring him to a complete standstill when I materialized beside him, training Liv's sights on his head as I did so, pressing her barrel against the side of his head.

"Please stop shooting at us," I asked, backing up my request by having Liv kiss him just a little harder. "We're not the ones who're responsible for this, okay?"

He took a deep breath and shuddered, sweat running down his face in rivulets, clearly worn-out from the firefight…well…fire ambush, was more like it, and scared now that someone else, a stranger, had the upper hand on him.

"How can I be sure?" he asked in a voice thick with his heritage, another one who didn't trust me, but who could blame him?

"If I was that person, would I be explaining any of this to you?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

He started to turn, to look at me, and I slowly drew Liv away from him, giving him the opportunity to move freely, but guardedly…he and the Mexican weren't the only ones who were slow to trust others. He watched me for a moment, then nodded, evidently believing me at last and then, and only then, did I move Liv away from him completely.

"Okay," he said, nodding his head again. "I believe you. Now will you help me find the ones who _are_ responsible?"

Whew…that was a relief, and his suggestion was a good one, but I knew that it was something that wouldn't be easy to do, not by a long shot. God only knew where we were at, and even if I had the faintest notion of my surroundings, unless I knew the place like the back of my hand, it was going to be a pain in my balls to track down professionals, and it was obvious that the ones we wanted were experts at what they did.

"Nikolai," he continued, patting his huge hand on his chest, throwing me momentarily off-track. "My name is Nikolai."

I nodded and looked away, not bothering to offer my own name in response. Situations like the one that we found ourselves in rarely ended well, and I didn't want to complicate things further by placing myself on a first name basis with anyone.

The Mexican had finally decided that things were safe enough for him to emerge from his hiding place and he walked over to stand beside me, deciding, at last, I suppose, that he could trust me…at least, he could trust me more than he could the Russian…that was, more than he could trust Nikolai.

"What is your last memory, Nikolai?" I asked, mentally cursing myself when I heard his name slip out of me. What the hell…the damage was done; I just hope he didn't expect me to reciprocate with my own name.

"I can remember the war," he answered slowly. "Yeah…that's it…the fighting. I was part of the Chechnya…and then there was a light…a bright flash of light, and the next thing I knew I was waking up…and I was…"

"You were falling," the Mexican finished for him, out loud, while I said the words in my mind. It seemed that we'd all had the same horrifying experience that had landed us smack-dab in the middle of a hotter than hell jungle, which took up space on a map of God only knew where.

"Same damn thing happened to me," my new friend continued. "I was in Baja when the light came, and the next thing I knew I was waking up to this _chingao _monkeyshit_."_

My Spanish was a little rusty, but I got the notion that the word _chingao_ loosely translated meant fucked up, and while it may not have been the most polite summation of what we'd been through, it was definitely accurate, succinctly so, as a matter of fact.

The Russian dude was starting to freak me out just a little bit at that point, staring up into the trees, his eyes taking on this look that said that he was about to bust his damned spring at any moment, muttering to himself over and over, "Where are we?"

I was wondering the same thing, but you didn't see me getting all panicky, did you? It never helped one thing in life, going nutsy, as a matter of fact it was the same caliber of uselessness that crying was, but some people just couldn't help themselves, I guess.

It was then that something new to the scene caught my eye, a sight that stood out as a surprise, even after all of the mind-blowing weirdness I'd already encountered. A girl was standing a little ways away from us, a woman, I suppose, would be more appropriate, considering the fact that she was aiming a rifle at us, a PSG1, if I were to guess. Damn, but she was a pretty little thing, but I wasn't pleased to see the look that she had in her eyes, the one that said that she'd happily blow our heads off if we even entertained the notion of making a move…same damned shit, same damned day…Jeez…I was getting really tired of this.

"Maybe she can tell us."

Desma's POV

I was so sore, it was hard to move, agonizing, as a matter of fact, but I'd made myself get up off of the ground, had forced myself to keep going, even if all that I wanted to do was lie on the ground and cry. What would that do for me, lying on the ground and sobbing my eyes out? It sure as hell wouldn't help me in my predicament, and it was highly unlikely that tears were going to make my injuries any better, so I got to my feet and walked, I kept myself going, even though my body begged me to give up, I kept on walking…until I heard the hail of gunfire, that is, and then I had dived behind a tree for cover, wondering who it was that was doing all the shooting and whether or not they were after me…whoever they were.

I'd just about wet myself when the gunfire had begun, and just as suddenly as it had started, it came to an end. I'd told myself that it was best to stay where I was, that no good would come from being nosy, but damned if I'd been able to talk myself into staying behind that tree. The truth of the matter was that I had no food, no water, and no earthly idea where I was or how to get out of the strange place that I'd found myself in and reasoned that it would be much more preferable to die in a hail of bullets, when thirst and starvation were my other possibilities.

I found the three of them standing together, talking about this and that, a large bear of a man, holding a weapon that made him seem the likely candidate for all of the helter-skelter moments before, a smaller, swarthy man who looked mean enough to consume small children for breakfast and the last man, tall, but not as bulky as the first…the one who saw me out of the three. I didn't like the way that he was looking at me and let him know about it with my eyes, the eyes that my Papa swore conveyed emotion better than words ever could…well…my eyes _and_ my Heckler and Koch pointed in his, as well as the others', direction.

The Bear turned around, wide-eyed, and stared, muttering a curse. I took my eye off of the scope, lowering the possibility that I might shoot first and ask questions later, while still conveying that I meant business. It was rude to greet people in such a manner, after all, and I owed them a distant politeness, at least…I just didn't want them to think that I was someone that they had no reason to fear.

"How's about you lower the rifle, okay, try to play nice?" the one who'd first spotted me suggested. He must consider himself to be a comedian to make that kind of proposal…either that or he was crazy. The best part was that he asked me this while the mean one had his guns pointed at me…apparently I was the only one who was expected to 'play nice'.

I shook my head and raised the scope back up to my eye. Clearly, they had no desire to be polite to me, so why should I waste such a gesture on them?

"Are any of you familiar with this place?" I asked, hoping for a yes from one of them. "I haven't traveled much, so I have no idea where we are at…how about you?"

"It might be Asia," The Bear answered with a Russian accent. "Or it could be Africa."

"Nope," the one with the big nose countered, the one who kept staring at me in that way that I didn't like, even though I kept my rifle trained on them. "It's too damned hot here to be either one, not this time of the year. Besides that, the scenery's wrong…doesn't fit."

Hmm…not only did he have a problem keeping his eyes where they belonged, but apparently he was a know-it-all as well.

"It could be the Amazon," I offered, thinking too late about that old saying that my Mama was so fond of, the one that said that it was better to remain silent and be thought a fool, then it was to speak and remove all doubt. I waited for The Nose to come up with a smartass answer to my suggestion, but he let it roll over without a word…maybe he had a sudden burst of charity.

"I saw more parachutes falling," I continued, feeling the need for some odd reason to fill the silence that had descended upon us. I'd kind of expected them to ignore that one as well, but they all stared at me, disbelieving.

"Where did you see them?" the irritating one asked, his voice grim and serious.

"Why does it matter?"

He moved from his place behind The Bear, startling me, making me raise my rifle, which I'd lowered just a little bit. "Maybe they can tell me who it was that felt that it was the right thing to do, the whole throwing me out of a fucking airplane thing, if you catch my drift."

What a charmer…I smiled derisively and gestured with a nod of my head, a motion that he responded to with a nod of his head and an equally sarcastic smile before he started moving in the direction that I'd indicated.

The Bear turned to the mean one, cursing and asking where their companion had gone, making me wonder if he was very dim, or just unobservant. Hadn't he been paying attention to the conversation I'd just had with The Nose? The mean one threw him one of those "hell if I know" shrugs and started muttering, words that made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

"Okay," The Bear said, checking his gear. "Time to make tracks, right?"

The mean one followed in the direction that his friend had gone, followed by the big one, muttering in Russian as he went. At that moment my choice was clear…the gang was moving on, with or without me, and like it or not it would be better for me to stay in a group than to take off on my own…it seemed that I would have to follow them.

"Great," I muttered, turning to make tracks of my own. "Just great."


	3. Encroaching

Chapter Three

Encroaching

Desma's POV

The group was moving out, and moving on, led by the big nosed know-it-all, and I was left with no choice but to follow them, no choice other than staying there by myself, doing my best to forage for bugs and roots to fill my stomach and hopefully not kill me in the process. There was no guarantee that staying with them would offer me anything better in the food and water departments, but at least I would have company…provided they didn't try to rape and/or kill me, of course…crap…what a mess.

It occurred to me that I was being punished, that this was payback, for one, knowing what my family had done and keeping quiet about it, and two, for having the presumption to take matters into my own hands as well, even though I'd known that it was a sin to do so, and had been waiting in that tree with the sole intention of murdering Rodney Milner. I'd known my actions were wrong, I'd agonized over them, but I'd set out to do them anyway, and this was my punishment…to be dropped from the sky by aliens of some sort, damned to an existence with three strange men who were no doubt mass murderers and deviants of one type or another.

The Nose charged forward with no hesitation whatsoever, followed by The Ponytail, who briefly glanced back at me before heading on his way, and The Bear, who watched me even longer, giving the impression that he was waiting on me. It came to mind that these three might be wrestling with the same emotions that I was, if they'd arrived here in the same fashion that I had, and I realized that made us comrades, whether we wanted to be or not.

Sometime during the trek I found myself located between The Ponytail and The Bear, and wondered for a moment how I'd come to be in that position. I'd been last, following the three of them, and that was where I ought to have still been, and then I remembered the big Russian hanging back for a moment, letting me go ahead of him, an action that had made me wary at first, but which I now saw was yet another indication that he was watching out for me. I still didn't trust him, but I had to admit that his thoughtfulness warmed my heart…just a little bit…not a significant amount, you understand, but enough that it made me smile to myself.

"Do you remember the plane?" I asked, directing my question to The Nose. "The one that you said that you were thrown from?"

"Not exactly," he answered, his voice suggesting that he was irritated that I was speaking to him. "I woke up when I was falling. What do you remember?"

It made sense, because that was when I had woken as well, but I could still see the ship that had taken me up in its bright light, fading in and out of view, lightning crackling on its surface, and I knew that it was no mere plane, just as I knew that it was a craft that was not of this Earth…if that was where we were still at, that is. I just wasn't sure how much of my memories I wanted to share with him, or with any of them for that matter. They were still, and more than likely would always be strangers to me, people that I couldn't trust.

"The same things that you remember," I lied, moving so that I was walking beside him. I wasn't sure why I did that, I told myself that it was so I didn't have to speak too loudly to carry on our conversation, but that was probably a lie.

"So…who are you with?" he asked, turning to glance at me with his eyebrow raised. "I've nailed down who, and what, the others are, but you're a mystery to me."

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you," I answered, glaring at him until he smirked and looked away. "And I'm not going to tell you, so you might as well drop it."

"Are you saying that you aren't curious about me?" he asked. "Who I am, what I do…all of that jazz?"

"Not really," I said, lying completely once more. "I assumed that you were probably in the service, and figured anything else about you was none of my business."

He stopped for just a moment and turned to look at me. "Hmm…that's a first…a woman who doesn't want to know a man's complete history, all the way back to conception…and your assumption about me was wrong."

If he was hoping that I'd visibly rise to the bait that he insisted on waving in my face, he was sadly mistaken in his abilities. "I suppose that my Papa was right then," I answered, pleased that I'd managed to keep the sound of my rising temper out of my voice. "It never does one well to assume anything, because if you do…"

"You make an ass out of you and me," he interrupted, getting that look in his eyes again, the one that set my teeth on edge…not that I needed any more help in that area. "That's an old saying, you know…one that I'm familiar with."

It was a saying that resembled him a great deal, the part about the ass, that was, and I was all set to point that out to him, but was interrupted by the sounds of fists hitting flesh, of grunts of pain, and of shouts that involved quite a bit of colorful language, but only in one voice, when there had to be at least two people, unless someone was fighting with themselves. It was possible, I suppose…after all that I'd seen today I would be willing to swear that _anything_ was possible.

It didn't take us long to find them, two men rolling around on the ground in a fierce battle for domination, one over the other, a white man clothed in prison issue garb, being walloped by a larger black man, who had the advantage over his smaller, louder competitor, that was until the foulmouthed convict head butted him and flipped him onto his back, straddling him and punching him numerous times in the face. His final move was to grab a large stick from the ground, obviously intending to brain the other man with it, at least until he looked up and saw our group staring at him.

"Are you here with him?" he asked, looking from one of us to the other, clearly believing that his fight had just grown from the one man to five combatants.

"No," I answered, the only one out of my group who bothered to reply, and while his attention was diverted the other man took advantage of the situation and took hold of him, grabbing him by his throat and tossing him off of him. I tensed, waiting for the fight to come in my direction, but the arrival of our group seemed to have taken some of the fight out of these newcomers…well…out of the big one, at least.

"I'd suggest that you move along then," the convict said, his stance confrontational, his tone hostile. "This here ain't none of your damned business."

I'd known plenty like this one in my lifetime, those who went through life picking a fight with anyone and everyone, filled with piss and vinegar and willing to spit in the eye of the devil himself, if the mood struck them…they were nothing but trouble, plain and simple.

"Your squabbles are of no concern to us," I replied, refusing to be bullied by him. "We have much more pressing matters to attend to, I can assure you of that."

"Whatever you say there, boss lady," he said, panting heavily now that the fight was over, drawing my attention to the hideous scorpion that he had tattooed on his neck…gross…who would want such a vile thing permanently embedded in their skin? Scorpions were dreadful creatures…I was scared of them…and now I had to look at this one on his neck for who knows how long…surely this was punishment of one type or another.

The large man reached out and took hold of The Scorpion's top, pulling him close to his face, obviously not as finished with the fight as I'd thought he was. "I am going to finish what you have begun with me," he growled. "When the time is right you will answer for what you have done."

They shoved away from one another and The Scorpion turned to look at us once more, aiming most of his attention toward The Nose, our designated, though reluctantly on my part, leader.

"Well, they say that there's strength in numbers, isn't that right?" he asked.

I wouldn't trust this guy…or any of the others…as far as I could throw them, but I would have to stick with them regardless, a realization that this guy seemed to have reached as well.

"I've heard something similar," I replied, once more the only one who bothered to answer him.

"Yeah, that's what I've heard," he repeated, smiling at me in a way that I didn't care for at all, even less than I liked the way that The Nose looked at me…this guy made my skin crawl.

"Bearing that in mind," he continued. "Maybe we ought to see what we can do for that asshole who's still hanging upside down from a tree…what do you say to that, honey?"

Royce's POV

Damn, he was a noisy one…dangling out of a tree like some overgrown piñata, caterwauling for help. I didn't know how long he'd been hanging there, but it seemed to me that he would have worked out some plan, even a half-assed one would have sufficed, to get himself out of his predicament. You sure as hell wouldn't have found me swaying from a tree branch, yowling for help, when God only knew who, or what, might come along and find you completely helpless…what a moron.

The poor bastard had managed to find a tree with branches that were suspended over a pool of water to hang from, looking like a scared little monkey, only a monkey would have no doubt exhibited more smarts than this guy did. He didn't even notice our arrival to begin with, even though we hadn't taken any extra care to keep our steps quiet…yep…definitely a moron.

The guy in the prison orange finally had a bellyful of the noise and told the guy to shut up, reaching in and taking the words right out of my mouth before I had a chance to say anything. Oh, I could have reiterated the demand, but then I would have been the one who looked like the loudmouthed douchebag, and that wasn't a role that I was cut out for, so I kept my "shut up" to myself.

"Thank God you found me," the Monkey Man declared, and I thought to myself that his words were of the type that I would have never expected to have aimed in my direction. Most of the people who were unfortunate enough to have had a face-to-face meeting with me _did_ end up mentioning God's name sooner or later, but it was never in relief, I can assure you of that.

He chose that moment to start thrashing about, trying to work himself free, which was understandable, though I couldn't understand why he hadn't tried that particular maneuver before we arrived, when he was hanging there yelling his damned fool head off. Right away the little Spitfire, the one who absolutely hated my guts, kicked into her mother hen mode and implored him to stay still because he was breaking the branch…shit…this was going to take all damned day at the rate that we were going.

"Do you have anything on you that you could use to cut yourself loose?" I asked, not surprised at all when he answered that he didn't, my estimation of him as a human being falling even further down the scale when he followed that up with a query about why he would be carrying anything that he could use to make an escape possible, and it took every ounce of self-control that I possessed to keep myself from telling him exactly what I thought of him, and that if I had my way I'd leave him there to rot, because he was obviously too stupid to live.

"We could get some rope from one of the other chutes," The Spitfire said, turning those big brown eyes on me, the ones that usually sparked at me with dislike, but which were now filled with determination. "Then we could rig up something to…"

"Aw, shit lady," The Monkey interrupted, quite rudely, I might add. "Just do something already, instead of wasting time on making a plan, what are you, a fucking Girl Scout or what?"

Well…he was so insistent, so determined to be down from that branch, so why shouldn't I accommodate him? I raised Liv to my shoulder and let loose with a shot, which snapped the branch quite nicely and sent him falling, head first, into the water below.

Little Miss Spitfire shot me a look, one of those that I was quickly becoming familiar with, one she seemed to bestow only upon me. "The rescue mission was taking too damned long," I said in explanation as The Monkey began screaming for help, and that was half true. The other half, which I would never admit to anyone other than myself, even if they tortured me, was that I hadn't cared for the way he'd spoken to her, not at all, and had taken it upon myself to give the whiny shit a lesson in manners.

He continued to thrash around for several moments, calling for help, then it finally dawned on him to lower his feet, which met the solid ground below them, allowing him to stand in water that only reached his crotch…what a freakin' idiot.

"So, who are you anyway?" San Quentin asked, crouching down to have a good look at the newcomer.

"I'm a doctor," the Monkey answered, looking around at all of us, particularly at me, like maybe he expected me to shoot him at any moment. "I was headed for work, and then…well…something…well…"

His voice trailed off for a moment, and I was sure that he caught the look that passed between me and The Spitfire, the look that said that it was the same damned story, except with a slightly different character than the rest of the cast.

"Could one of you please just tell me, uh, what it is that I landed in the middle of, huh? Where the fuck am I and how the fuck did I get here?"

His question was a valid one, it was the same thing that everyone else was asking themselves, but none of us were in the mood to answer. There were more pressing issues at hand, and one by one we turned to leave, offering him no other choice but to follow or get left behind. Personally, I would have liked to have left him there, but somehow I figured that idea wouldn't jive too well with The Spitfire, and for some damned reason her opinion was important to me…I must have been losing my mind…or I was letting the little head do all the thinking…either way, it wasn't good.

* * *

It was the same damned scenery…trees, trees, and more damn trees, and once again I was at the head of the line, acting both as leader and as tour guide. I turned to look at my troopers, one in particular, and had yet another opportunity to get pissed off handed to me, this time by San Quentin, the slimy little maggot who was filling his eyes up with the curviness of The Spitfire's ass.

It's not that I blamed him for checking out her backside…shit, I'd done so myself, and let me tell you, it was one of those kinds of behinds that every man loves, and if he don't, then he should…all shapely and full, filling out her pants in a way that made a man feel all hot and bothered…yep, I had filled my eyes plenty too, but that didn't mean that he ought to, now did it?

They were a little too far back for my liking, and I bent under the pretext of tying my lace, telling The Mexican to lead them on for a while. She saw me stop and paused to take a little breather of her own. It was then that she must have felt the convict's gaze scoping out her goods, because she slowly turned to look at him. I listened carefully and heard him pay her the "compliment" of telling her that her ass was awesome, which was the God's honest truth, but apparently she wasn't impressed. She turned back to the front and hurried on her way, giving me the old evil eye as she passed, which I welcomed with a smile, pissing her off even more…damn, I was quickly growing to love making her mad…which could be a deadly habit in the making, wouldn't you agree?

The big black guy had been traveling behind the convict, and from the look on his face, he wasn't impressed by the attempts of San Quentin to be the group's lothario any more than The Spitfire or I was…at least, that was the look on his face until he spotted yet another person who'd no doubt dropped from the sky, a lone figure who looked to be of Asian descent, who was dressed in a suit, of all things.

We all hustled on over to get a closer look, weapons at the ready, except for the convict and the doctor, both of whom were unarmed, for some damned reason. If there truly was anytime when that pacifist bullshit came in handy, it sure as hell wasn't now…though I suppose it made sense that San Quentin was unarmed, having been taken out of a prison…but now that I think about it…where was his shiv?

"Well, shit," he said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the forest. "Now who do you suppose he is?"

I suppose that I could've offered a response to his question, something along the line of "hell if I know", but truthfully the idea gave me a headache, well, gave me an even worse headache, so I pretended that I hadn't heard him instead. I walked over to the new guy, taking the place to his left and filled my eyes with the object that had been holding him enthralled, allowing us the opportunity to make a new friend.

I wasn't sure what it was that I was looking at, so once more I was unable to come up with a better response then thinking the tired old "hell if I know" to myself when San Quentin once again asked a stupid question that no one knew the answer to. It looked like a spike of some sort protruding out of the ground, and the creepy cherry on top of the whole messed up cake was the pile of bones that laid at its base, bones grown rusty in hue from age and/or exposure, bones that at first glance appeared to be large mushrooms growing around the spike…aw, shit…the whole thing looked like a shrine of some sort…and the longer I looked, the more I was forced to admit that the bones were human and the whole thing was a memorial of the death of who knows how many people…that was fucked up…no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"Who would do something so horrible?" The Spitfire asked, her face a mixture of horror and disgust.

"Someone who enjoys the occasional trophy," The African answered, equally shaken. "It is common in my culture, the knowledge that he who possesses the greatest trophies demands the greatest respect."

"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me," San Quentin scoffed, walking up to the shrine for a closer look, doing his best to pretend that he wasn't the least bit afraid of the death resting all around him…typical response from a blowhard like him.

The Russian, on the other hand, was making no secret of his own fear, his eyes taking on that slightly crazy look they'd favored when we'd first met. "I think that this is a test of some sort," he said. "To see how we will handle the pressure, you know?"

That was a plausible explanation, I suppose, but also one that The Spitfire immediately challenged. "If that were true, then we'd all be military, wouldn't we?" she asked. "The fact that we're all strangers fits, but why aren't we all armed, if this is a test of endurance? I think that it must be something else."

"Maybe this is about a ransom," The Mexican said, adding his own reasoning to the mix. "In Tijuana, we kidnap someone, put them into an oil drum, and if no one pays the ransom, then we light them on fire."

"Sometimes I hear rumors," San Quentin said, obviously feeling left out of the conversation. "About people who conduct all kinds of research on cons, like putting some kind of drugs in your food, then sitting back to watch the show unfold…now that could be what we've gone through here, don'tcha think…messed up shit, courtesy of the man?"

Out of all the explanations, his seemed the _least_ likely to me, an opinion backed up by the Monkey Doc. "In my opinion, we haven't been exposed to any sort of drugs," he said, crossing his arms and putting on an air that said that he was working under the impression that the rest of us were dumb as rocks. "If we were being influenced by some sort of psychotropic compound, then we'd be experiencing the lingering side effects right now, such as a lack of motor skills and impairments to our vision. Also, if this were some sort of behavioral research, shouldn't there…well…wouldn't there be a point being made to us, rather than all of this mystery?"

Damn…another chatterbox…just what we needed. I kept my mouth shut, prepping Liv for more action, biting my tongue when the urge to offer a sarcastic response rose up a little too strongly in me. I figured that I should just let them blab for a bit, get it out of their system, so then we could get back to the task at hand.

"Maybe we are dead," The African offered, catching everyone's attention, even the silent Asian.

"Big fucking deal," San Quentin scoffed. "I was all set to be executed in a couple of days anyway."

"I was in combat," The Russian added, a statement that The African said described him as well.

"That means that this is Hell," The Mexican said. "We're all dead, and this is our Hell."

Aw, shit…that was enough, dammit. "I'll admit that I don't know everything," I said, starting my trek once more, knowing that it was time to cut the break short. "But last I heard, you didn't need a parachute to get into Hell. It really doesn't matter what it was that happened to us, or why it was that it happened…what matters is that we're here, wherever here is, and the important question is, how do we get ourselves out?"

I continued to walk, and surprisingly none of them followed. The Spitfire called after me, asking where I was going. "To find some higher ground," I answered, not stopping, and not turning.

"Don't you think that we should stay together?" she asked, and for that I stopped and turned to look at her.

"If that's the case, then you should be following me," I replied, then turned to head on my way. She was a smart woman, my little Spitfire was, and I knew without a doubt that she'd be along in a moment, a blink of an eye, and the others would be compelled to join us as well.

People always wanted a leader, someone besides them who was in charge…looks like that lucky asshole was me.


	4. Endangered

Chapter Four

Endangered

Desma's POV

Here we were again, playing follow-the-leader with him at the head of the line, our motley crew of strangers trailing behind. I wondered if it pleased him, knowing that I'd followed just as he'd known I would, placing myself directly behind him, watching his rather flat backside as he led the way…hmm…such a shame that the scenery couldn't be a little better. I was a girl who liked a man's buns to fill out his pants, rather than accentuating the fact that he was flat as a board…ah, well…what did it matter anyway? He was an obnoxious know-it-all with eyes that hinted at thoughts that he had no business entertaining, so it only made sense that he'd have a flat butt as well.

God it was muggy…My hair was back in a braid, but the tiny tendrils that grew at my nape were sticking to my skin, and I was willing to bet that I had a flow that would rival that of the Amazon River coursing between my breasts, soaking my bra. What was worse were the swarms of tiny insects that filled the air, threatening to fly into your throat and choke you if they caught you with your mouth open for even a moment…sheesh…all in all a prime example of a hellacious atmosphere, complete with shrines to the slaughter of human beings…how could things _possibly_ get any worse?

I knew in my heart that my question was a foolish one. Things could and more than likely _would_ get far more nightmarish before this whole thing was over with, that was, if I managed to live long enough to see it come to an end. The only option that I had available was for me to survive, to keep going, and to make my way out of the Hell that I'd found myself in. I wanted to believe that such a thing was still possible, that it was always possible, the chance for forgiveness, which would free me from this tribulation…I just had to believe that it could happen.

One moment I was traveling behind The Nose, pondering the concavity of his butt, and the next thing I knew I'd ended up behind The Bear and the one who called himself a doctor, the one who'd proven that he was quite rude upon our first meeting. The Bear stopped to look at a spiny, well; I'd guess you'd call it a flower, of some sort. It bore a little resemblance to a Bird of Paradise flower, maybe it's ugly, bristly cousin, but it was evident that The Bear was instantly entranced by it and slowly reached his hand out to touch it.

I would have warned him that it would be better for him not to touch anything, considering that this was a foreign environment for all of us, but in the end the doctor beat me to the punch.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a case, which when opened revealed a scalpel inside. He pierced the flower with the blade, causing it to draw in on itself protectively, pulling it away to reveal that its formerly shiny surface was now coated with a viscous substance that resembled some seriously nasty snot.

"Just as I suspected," he said, in that tone of voice that was proving to be much more annoying than the looks that The Nose was so fond of bestowing upon me. "_Archaefructus liaoningensis_…which contains an extremely dangerous toxin. One tiny scratch exposed to this would cause complete and immediate paralysis."

"Thank you for that," The Bear told him, staring at the poisonous goo dripping from the doctor's scalpel. "I will be sure to keep a close eye out for you, to return the favor."

He lumbered away and left me to stare at the doctor, who was looking at his blade with an expression that caused a cold trickle of apprehension to run up and down my spine. I couldn't place it exactly, what it was that I saw in that look, but I knew that it scared me.

He stayed that way for a moment or two, and then turned to find me watching him, and I hoped that the look on my face didn't reveal to him the uneasiness that was making my heart beat faster.

"Looks like you made yourself a friend," I said, pleased that none of my trepidation was evident in my voice. He didn't offer an answer other than a smile that held no happiness or friendliness, and turned back to look at the plant, at the toxic fluid slowly oozing out of the cut that he'd placed in its flesh. He was not to be trusted, this doctor, not at all…and I just hoped that I wasn't the only one who saw that.

* * *

It was nice to have a change of scenery, even if that change only consisted of a large piece of land composed of rock, pocked here and there, with some of the holes filled with water, making tiny lakes. I'd been sick to death of nothing but trees and vines, and I longed to sit for a moment, to rest…that was if I could talk our fearless leader into taking a break.

"Hey," I called out, hurrying to catch up to him. "It wouldn't hurt to take a breather, you know? I think that everyone could use five minutes, at least."

All the time I'd known him, he'd bothered me because he wouldn't stop looking at me, but now he didn't even turn in my direction, he just called out a suggestion that I go ahead and rest over his shoulder, as though it wasn't worth his time to actually turn and speak to me face-to-face, like any decent person would.

"Don't you think it would do you good as well?" I asked, hearing the anger in my voice and not giving a half a damn that he could hear it as well. "You look like you're exhausted."

That wasn't exactly true…the truth was that he looked like he had lots of energy left, too damn much, as a matter of fact, but was there any reason why the rest of us should be made to feel weak and guilty because we couldn't buck up and march on and on for hours like he could?

He didn't answer me…of course, why should he bother, the peckerwood? "What should I call you?" I asked, thinking that perhaps a different tack might work with him, because it was obvious that the one that I had chosen wasn't going to get me anywhere.

That made him stop…it even made him turn around to look at me, and funnily enough, I would have much preferred for him to be looking at me in the customary way, the one that usually irritated me so much, as opposed to this warning glare that told me that I was pushing the envelope with him to a limit that I didn't want to reach, though I couldn't imagine what I'd said to make him react that way.

"I don't mean to be rude," he said, in a voice that told me that was _exactly_ what he meant, while at the same time indicated that he was exasperated and still trying to be as nice as possible…damn…what a riot of feelings to have coursing through your body. "If you want to be the little scout leader around here, that's just dandy with me. Maybe you feel like following me around, and that's alright with me too. But as for this other shit…hell, no…I'm not doing it, sister…I work better on my own."

He turned to walk away once more, and I fully expected my temper to erupt, to cover my eyes in a fine, red mist of fury, but instead I just felt disappointed…and more than a little desperate to bring him back, which should have enraged me as well, but didn't, for some reason.

"Would you like to see something?" I asked, the nervousness clear in my tone, and it occurred to me as soon as the words let my mouth that he might take them to mean something other than what I intended, which left me scrambling to explain myself. "Something messed up, I mean."

Sure enough, he turned around, smiling in a way that suggested that he was exasperated, yet again, then slowly returned to my side, next to one of the little pools that had collected in the surface of the rock. I bent with a leaf in my hand, placing it onto the water's surface, and we watched the little trick that I had discovered earlier, before I suggested we take a break, the leaf spinning clockwise, 'round and 'round in the pool.

He raised his eyes to look at me, sighing in a way that suggested that he'd rather I'd kept that particular trick to myself. "Well then, between that and the sun, I'd say that we've got one hell of a problem on our hands, sister."

I found myself wishing that he'd drop the familial title…it was starting to get on my nerves. "What's wrong with the sun?"

"It hasn't budged since we got here," he answered, looking back down at the leaf.

I raised my eyes to the sky and verified what I already knew; that he was telling the truth…shit…this was bad, very bad.

"What is going on here?" I asked, not conscious of the fact that I'd moved closer to him until my knee bumped against his, and even then I couldn't make myself move. "I mean, what do you think is _really_ going on?"

"You're asking what I think?" he responded, looking everywhere but at me.

Dammit…hadn't I just asked him that? Would I have bothered if I didn't want his answer? I wanted to say that to him, truly I did, but this didn't seem like the right time to pick a fight, so I made do with nodding instead.

"That one is Spetsnaz," he said, his eyes trained on The Bear, "part of the Alpha Group."

"Los Zetas," he continued, turning his gaze to The Ponytail, "one of the cartel's enforcers."

"RUF," his eyes on The African, who had knelt down to pray, "part of a death squad from Sierra Leone."

"He's Yakuza," he said, with a nod at our newest member, The Asian who'd yet to utter a word. "Inagawa-kai."

"And our tattooed friend," he said, looking at The Scorpion, "comes to us courtesy of the FBI's Most Wanted."

"That brings us to him," he said, turning his attention to the bespectacled doctor, the one who made my skin crawl. "Every last one of us are professionals, of one type or another, he doesn't belong…and neither do you."

His face was so close to mine that I could see myself reflected in his eyes. "What exactly is it that we don't belong to?"

"Well, if you were to ask me my opinion, I'd say that this little group of ours was chosen special by someone," he answered, locking his eyes onto mine. "And I can't think of a better reason to explain why except for our shared tendencies."

Again he stood up and walked away from me, but I wasn't inclined to let him go so easily. "What's the story on you then?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me, his eyes guarded and more than a little hostile. "What do you mean, 'the story on me'?" he asked.

I got to my feet and met his gaze directly, refusing to back down. "You seem to know this jungle, and you just named all of the players, so if you were to ask me _my_ opinion, I'd guess that you are ex-military of some kind, black-ops, more than likely…maybe a mercenary."

"Do you have some kind of problem with that?" he asked, the hostility in his eyes traveling to his voice.

"None that I can think of," I answered, turning my back on him, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Not right now."

"That's nice to know," he muttered, moving away from me once more, and this time I let him go. He'd given me a lot to think about, to wonder about, and I needed some time to myself to clear my head…which was something I couldn't do as well whenever he was looking at me, for some reason.

Royce's POV

It was a man's nature, I suppose, to work off his anger with physical activity. The dumb ones among us punch things…walls, doors, mirrors, basically anything that's going to hurt their damn hands. Those of us who possess more brainpower use an object to hit these things, the walls and doors and mirrors…or in my case, slashing through any and all leaves and/or branches that even thought about getting in my way with my machete.

What was it about this woman that was making me so crazy? Was it an overall dearth of female companionship lately or was it just being in this strange place? Surely I didn't really like her…damn…that was going to make things a lot more difficult for me if that was the case. I wasn't one to complicate things, I liked my life to be simple and my women to be anonymous…and now look at me.

I was already showing possessiveness toward her, jealousy, which were traits that had no place in my world, and back there on the rock, squatted down close to her, I'd gotten a hard-on…a freakin' hard-on…from the feel of her knee pressed against mine and the sight of myself in those big brown eyes of hers…not to mention her lips, which I would describe as a plump cupid's bow just waiting to be kissed…ah, shit…I was going from bad to worse too damn quick, wasn't I?

She followed close behind me, too damn close, so close that I had to watch how hard I swung my blade, lest I run the risk of hitting her. I would've snapped at her to move back, at all of them to move back, but my last swath revealed something nestled amongst the trees, a big cage, by the looks of it, partially covered by a parachute.

I hesitantly made my way forward, giving the command for everyone to freeze, to get down, commands that I was pleased to see my little Spitfire quickly reiterate…only to completely ignore them herself and all but attach herself to my ass…sheesh, this woman.

Her lack of discipline encouraged everyone else to act up, and the next thing I knew they were all creeping up behind me…now, I'd expect that sort of behavior from her, or from The Monkey Doc, but not from the others, for chrissakes. In the end I decided to put some of them to work, if they were so damn eager to be involved, singling out The Asian to advance toward the cage and check it out.

He got to his feet and closed his eyes for just a moment, then opened his jacket to reveal a custom piece, a Beretta. He took the pistol in his hands and slowly approached the cage, moving silently, turning back to nod at The African, who followed close behind him, armed with an AKMS. The Spitfire and I provided backup as well…no telling what might be waiting for us in that damned cage.

The tension grew and grew as we waited to see what lay in store for us, imagining the worst…only to discover that the cage was empty. Suddenly I had the feeling of being Geraldo Rivera, so sure that I was about to reveal the long lost riches of Al Capone, only to find myself standing in front of an empty vault, looking like an ass.

Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words…except for The Spitfire, who recovered fairly quickly and approached the cage. "It looks like we weren't the only ones that were dropped from the sky," she said, taking a peek inside the box.

"No, we were not," The African offered, staring at the box, shaking his head. "But these are not the same as us, not at all."

As though on cue the tarp on the floor of the cage came to life with some freakish looking insects, bearing a close resemblance to a Madagascar hissing cockroach…it's ugly little brothers, maybe…either way things were starting to get a little too creepy for my tastes.

"You told me that we were all chosen," my little Spitfire said, turning to look at me. "But what is it that we were chosen for?"

There she went again…asking me a question that I didn't know the answer to, or rather, that I didn't _want_ to know the answer to. I was saved from having to answer when San Quentin stood up and cursed, looking up into the trees around us. I followed his line of sight and saw several more cages littering the trees and the ground of the forest, more cages than I cared to count…ah, shit…this was definitely bad.

* * *

It was more of the same, marching through the forest, but now we were being trailed by the certainty that there existed other beings in this place with us, beings that were dropped from the sky in big freakin' _cages_. What needed a cage, for chrissakes? All that I could think of were lions and tigers and bears…oh, my…which we could hold off well enough as long as our ammo lasted, but what about after that?

I found myself wondering if maybe I ought to suggest to the others that they reserve one round of ammunition, one shot that would be all that it would take to end things for ourselves if and when the time came. Most of us had side arms, so that would cover The Doc and San Quentin, but how in hell did I make that kind of suggestion to everyone? That would be a happy conversation, wouldn't it?

I stopped and let half of them go past me, caught up in my thoughts, which were interrupted when The African tripped over something, a tree branch on the ground and landed flat on his face, which was odd, because he didn't give the impression of being someone who was clumsy.

"That was a good one, boss," San Quentin said, walking up behind him, and I found myself thinking that this would be a spectacular time for The African to finish what the convict had started earlier with him. Hell, what better way to momentarily distract us from our possible impending doom than with ringside seats to see a smarmy little asshole get thrown a beating?

Yep…that would have been one hell of a show, a real humdinger…but the fact that The African had just set off what looked to be a booby-trap kind of put a crimp in those plans.

I have to be honest with you…suicide was looking better and better with each passing moment.


	5. Encircled

Chapter Five

Encircled

Royce's POV

You know, normally I was a guy who liked a fair bit of action in his life. I preferred fast cars, badass guns and women who knew how to have a good time without fastening a collar around your neck. I always enjoyed the rush of exhilaration that could be found in the dangerous and the ballsy…but a booby-trap in the middle of God knows how many other types of danger that could prove to be detrimental to your life? Nope…that wasn't my cup of tea.

Gigantic logs were being raised in the air and went flying sideways, nearly slamming into San Quentin's head before he dove to the ground, yelling out a warning for everyone to hit the deck. The Russian shoved The Doc out of the way, while the rest of us took cover for ourselves, and my heart, which had been hammering painfully in my chest from fear and heightened adrenaline, jumped into my throat when I saw my little Spitfire sliding backwards on the ground, doing her best to avoid sharpened stakes that rained down from the sky, nearly impaling her.

The good doctor also came under fire from the stakes, but unlike her he managed to scramble away from them while she, for some damn reason, stopped and stayed where she was, which meant that I would owe her a good, long talk after this latest shitstorm calmed down…that was, if we both survived it.

I saw the Asian guy go sliding down a little embankment, setting off a mat, filled with even more of those wonderful stakes, which he just barely avoided being skewered by, and that was the first time I'd heard him make any noise at all since we'd first encountered him, the cry of alarm that escaped his lips as he dove out of the way.

I was distracted from him by the sound of The Spitfire as she sprinted through the woods, still dodging those damned stakes, which seemed to have developed a keen sense for finding her, and my heart, which had started to return to its normal resting place out of my throat jumped back up, nearly choking me, when I heard her cry out and watched her tumble into a pit of some kind…which couldn't be good at all, not with all of the other shit that we'd encountered so far.

"Aw, fuck me," I muttered to myself when I heard her cry out for help. See now, this was the bad part about giving a damn about someone, especially in the type of situation we'd been in since we fell from the sky. Circumstances were bound to arise, putting everyone's life in danger, and if you were stupid enough to allow an attachment to form, you ended up going out of your damned mind, knowing that they were in danger.

The stakes took a turn at me while I ran to help her, and I started to wonder if they were going to rain down out of the sky forever, making life even more interesting than it already was, or if there would be a reprieve in sight. I could hear her struggling, crying out, and I started to think that I wouldn't reach her in time, that she would fall victim to whatever it was that lay in the bottom of that pit…no…that wouldn't happen…not on my damned watch.

She was cursing, clawing helplessly at the edge of the pit, and the closer I got, the more it sounded like she was crying as well…aw, shit…what did she have to do that for? I finally got close enough that I could get hold of her, diving to the ground and reaching down to take hold of her, one hand on hers, the other on her forearm, and, sobbing, she grabbed hold of me around my neck, climbing while I pulled, and finally I got her out, grabbing her ass in the process…something that I loved, but which would have gotten me slapped, had the circumstances not been so dire.

"You've got to stop crying," I said, readying Liv for action. "I need your help and you're no damn use to me the way you are right now."

Shit…I hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but then again, things being the way they were, there was no time for me to sugarcoat anything, and she seemed to realize that as well. She pulled herself together and grabbed her Heckler and Koch, which amazingly she'd held onto, even after she fell, and turned to put her back against mine, giving me the help that I needed.

We stayed that way for several moments, scanning the area, hearts pounding, gasping for breath, and suddenly she spotted something. "Look," she said. "Twelve o' clock…one hundred ten meters."

I had no idea who, or what she'd seen, but I wasn't going to waste time having her explain it to me. "Take the bastard out," I said, trusting her eye, with its scope, to get the job done.

"There's no need for me to do that," she answered, still studying the area through her scope. She shuddered once and lowered the weapon, shaking her head. "No need at all."

* * *

The asshole that had set up all the booby-traps, the one guy I was wanting to see taken out more than anybody else at that moment was already dead…very freakin' dead…as dead as a person could get, and by the looks of things it seemed that he'd been that way for quite a while.

He was laying down, propped up against a fallen tree, like he'd been waiting for someone or some_thing_, and whatever it was that had found him had opened up his chest like a can of sardines, a freakin' awful way to die, I would imagine.

"We triggered the trap of a dead man," The African said, which was partly right, but would have only been completely right if he'd taken all the blame for himself, rather than placing any of it on the rest of us.

"Looks like he's been here like this for two weeks," The Doc said. "Given the rate of decomposition."

"He took this position purposefully," The Russian added, nodding at the dead man. "And shot everywhere, in all directions…this was to be his final stand."

He leaned over and took a leather-bound book of some type out of the man's jacket pocket and said that the poor bastard had belonged to the US Special Forces and that oddly enough, he was supposed to be off fighting in Afghanistan, not having his chest torn open by God knows what, in a place that was God only knows where.

"Well, if that's the case, what the hell's G.I. Joe doing here, setting booby-traps for us then?"

For once San Quentin had asked a question that was valid…maybe all the excitement had reconnected something in his brain. "The traps weren't meant for us," I answered. "This guy was after bigger game."

"Bigger game?" The Doc asked, scoffing at my suggestion.

I could, and would, have wiped that smirk off of his face, if there hadn't been more pressing matters at hand. "The cage was a deadfall, and the common practice with a deadfall is to set the weight to be five times that of the target animal. I can't tell you what it was that came out of that box, but what I can tell you is that it managed to make its way through those trip wires…and did this."

I nodded to the dead soldier with the cracked open ribcage and opaque eyes, wondering what he'd gone through, what sort of hell he'd endured before he met his end, the same sort of hell that no doubt still lingered in the forest, waiting for us.

"Let's get out of here," I said, turning to lead the group away. Places like this weren't good for lingering…not unless you wanted to end up like the soldier lying dead on the ground, surrounded by traps that hadn't done a damn bit of good when it had come to saving his life.

Desma's POV

I don't think I'd ever appreciated being alive as much as I did at that moment, having almost died twice, and now, looking into the eyes of a man who'd died defending himself from something that had now become our problem, I was even more appreciative of just how lucky I was to be alive. The urge to cry was nearly overwhelming for me, but I bit it back, just as I'd bit it back after my near-tumble into that pit. There was no time for tears now, not when we were still caught up in our life and death situation, and these were not men who would abide a weeping woman…especially my rescuer, The Nose.

That wasn't fair of me, now that I thought about it. He _had_ made me quiet my crying, but not because he'd thought that I was weak or annoying, but because he'd needed my assistance at that moment, and I wouldn't have been much use to him if I'd continued to go to pieces. Dammit…I didn't want to owe him anything, and I certainly didn't want the feeling that was now bothering me in my chest every time I looked at him. I tried to tell myself that it was just gratitude for him saving my life, which would have been bad enough, but deep down I knew that it wasn't just appreciation that I was feeling, and that pissed me off.

The time came for us to move out once more, and we all started to move forward, well, all of us except the big African. He was too busy staring into a small cluster of trees, a look of trepidation that grew into outright terror clear on his face. I took a look for myself, trying to make out what it was about those trees that would have managed to scare him, but for the life of me I couldn't see anything, nothing beyond an ordinary group of trees.

"What do you see?" I asked, believing that he _had_ seen something. He just didn't seem the type who was given to hysterics.

He turned to look at me, acting almost as though I'd startled him, the look in his eyes one that asked me to explain what it was that he was feeling, then glancing back at the trees. He watched for a moment, and then turned back to me again, shaking his head.

"It was nothing," he assured me, but I knew that he wasn't being honest with me. I watched as he walked past me, following the others, then turned my eyes back to the trees once more. It just didn't add up with me, his obvious fear, followed by his denial. It was true that I hadn't known him long, but I felt that I'd learned enough of his nature to know that he wasn't a liar, and also that he wasn't one who was scared easily…he _had_ seen something, maybe not with his eyes, but that wasn't the only way to see something, was it?

* * *

We continued on our trek, surrounded by more of the seemingly endless forest, until up ahead we saw a slight change in the topography, what appeared to be a cliff, and slowly we approached it, hesitant, as one should be, when faced with a change in what was constant. We made our way to the edge of the precipice, and filled our eyes with what should have been a breathtaking vista. Oh, truly it was magnificent, but not because it was beautiful. Where there should have only been the sun peeking through the clouds, there were instead planets, some only partially viewed, and others revealed in all their glory, leaving us no doubt that we weren't anywhere near where we were supposed to be.

"Well, that solves it," The Nose said, his eyes furious as he gazed out at the undeniable truth. "We're going to need a new plan."

Hmm…I wasn't even aware of what the first plan was, unless it had been to march straight ahead, covering as much ground as we could, until we reached the edge of whatever property we were on…because that was what we'd been doing…and now we were turning around and heading in a new direction. It seemed to me that it was a useless endeavor…it was obvious that we were in trouble…but then, what else were we supposed to do?

We moved quietly, with no one saying a word, until the convict apparently had enough of the expedition and stopped. "Just where in hell are we going?" he asked, his voice filled with irritation.

"We didn't end up on this rock by accident," The Nose answered. "Someone put us here, which means that there has to be a way off of it."

Suddenly there was a noise that filled the air, a swooping sound, passing low over our head. "Well then, what the hell was that?" The Scorpion asked, clearly expecting The Nose to be a fount of information.

No one knew for sure, but we all raised our weapons, readied for battle, our nerves still frazzled from our last adventure, and I found myself choking on a snort of laughter, despite the circumstances surrounding us, when I saw that The Scorpion had pulled out what I believe they call a shank, bringing to mind that old saying about bringing a knife to a gunfight…things just didn't look too good for him, the poor guy.

"You want to know something?" he asked, holding the homemade knife in his hand, glaring at it in disgust. "This is bullshit, man…how's about one of you fuckers hand me a gun, huh?"

Surely he wasn't serious, was he? There was no way in hell that I was going to hand over any of my weapons, and from the looks on the other guys' faces I had a feeling that they were feeling the same way that I was.

"C'mon amigo," he said to The Ponytail. "You got two fucking guns, man, what do you need two guns for, huh?"

The Ponytail responded by pointing the 'two fucking guns' at The Scorpion, which was an action that had him wisely, and immediately, making his retreat.

"One of you bastards is going to give me a gun," the convict continued, his tendency toward the piss and vinegar bravado driving him on, when he should have stopped while he was ahead.

"What about you, Russian?" he hollered, stalking up to The Bear. "You got a big ol' gun."

His words and actions got him nowhere, just as I'd suspected, and then he turned his attention on me. I readied myself, not knowing what he might do or say, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed The Nose watching us, looking as though he was ready to protect me, at any moment, should I need him. I thought to myself that it would be very sweet of him to come to my rescue, yet again, while at the same moment I thought that I'd show him that it wasn't necessary for him to do so while I kicked both his _and _The Scorpion's ass.

We were both spared the embarrassment such a confrontation would have afforded when the convict took one look at my face and I let him know with my eyes what I was ready, willing, and able to do to him, if he even tried to take my weapons. He did an about-face and turned his attention to the big African, his sworn enemy since his arrival.

"You're going to give me a gun," he said, pathetically mouthy and cocksure, and when asking _nicely_ didn't work he lunged at the other man, pressing his blade against his neck, ending, at least in his mind, all negotiations. "Give it to me _now, _dammit!"

Behind them The Asian had seen and heard enough and cocked the hammer of his Beretta, that tiny sound deafeningly loud in the forest as The Scorpion ordered The African once more to hand over his weapon. I, for one, was all for The Asian shooting the convict and taking him off of our hands, and out of our hair once and for all, but as it turned out The African didn't need his help…which he proved as he pulled out his back-up piece and placed it beneath The Scorpion's chin, demonstrating that bit about the knife at the gun fight quite convincingly.

"My soul is ready if I die," the larger man said, staring down into The Scorpion's eyes. "Can you say the same?"

I was fairly certain what his answer would be to that question, but it appeared that we wouldn't be hearing it anytime soon, not with the new noises filling the forest all around us, the sound of a signal of some kind, followed by the parting of grass and the pounding of feet. All of us readied ourselves, well, all of us who were armed, that is, unsure of what it was that we were about to face, but knowing that whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

For several moments all we caught were glances of the beasts, and I couldn't speak for anyone else, but for myself, I couldn't identify what it was that I was seeing. There were parts that resembled this animal, or that one, but the entire picture just didn't make any sense.

We all took aim, except my aim now had me looking at The Nose's back rather than at the rustling grass, and I realized that he'd moved in front of me just a little bit, still caught up in that protective mode.

"Move, dammit," I hissed, but he stayed right where he was, either because he didn't hear me, or because he was ignoring me. "Hey you, the one with the big nose and no ass…I'd like for you to get the hell out of my line of fire, please."

What I had said was more than a little mean and very rude, but in the end it did the trick and he moved out of my way, pausing just long enough to glare at me over his shoulder. In that moment the beasts became visible in all of their horrific glory and I took a deep breath and dropped to my knee, pulling the trigger, along with everyone else, and doing my best to hold them at bay.

The air was filled with the sounds of our shots, but the monster kept coming, no matter how many times it was hit. I was beginning to think that it couldn't be killed, that it was invulnerable, that it would break through the hail of bullets and kill us, but at the last moment it exploded, it didn't merely fall, it burst into pieces…only to have another take its place…to have five more take its place.

The Scorpion took off running in one direction, apparently deciding that it was better to make a run for it, unarmed as he was except for the shank that he'd carried with him out of the prison, likewise for the doctor, who ran in the opposite direction, armed only with a scalpel.

The Ponytail's twin submachine guns were quickly emptied of all their rounds and he grabbed his backup piece, firing steadily as his fear continued to grow. I fought my own fear, the terror that threatened to rise up and take control of me, when suddenly I heard a cry for help and turned to see the doctor running pell-mell through the trees, one of the monsters hot on his trail. I turned and took aim, and after several moments fired one shot and dropped it before it could do any serious damage to him.

I was proud of myself, and I knew that Papa would have been proud of me as well, for taking out the target with one shot, unlike The Bear, who was spraying the ground around one of the beasts with numerous rounds, hitting it very sporadically as the thing advanced upon him. Thankfully he managed to take it out before it could do him in…I was starting to get more than a little worried about him.

All around me there were battles being waged to the death, human against beast, and so far the humans were coming out on top…but ammo supplies were growing low and the humans were growing tired, and for some damned reason the doctor was lying still on the ground, as though he was in a daze, instead of doing something smart, like running.

"Time to move your ass," I urged him, grabbing him under his arm to help him to his feet. We started to run, me dragging him most of the way, then he left me to climb a tree, a sapling really, leaving me by myself. One of the beasts approached, spotting and stalking me, and once more I dropped to my knee and took aim, doing my best to remain calm, as Papa had taught me. I waited until it had advanced a couple steps, growling menacingly, then I pulled the trigger and…nothing…I was out of rounds.

"Son of a bitch," I hissed, drawing my sidearm and taking aim, firing several rounds, most of which hit the monster, but none stopping it. "Please!" I yelled, firing again and again, until I recognized the inevitable, and knowing that I had just one round left I pressed the pistol against my temple. "Forgive me," I whispered, tightening my finger on the trigger.

"No!" the doctor screamed, but I barely heard him over the sound of a high-pitched whistle coming from deep in the forest…that and my own sobs…and suddenly the beast stopped in its tracks, snarling at me one last time before it turned and ran away, and shaking I drew the pistol away from my head, just in time for two strong hands to grab me beneath my arms, dragging me up onto my feet.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" The Nose asked as he whirled me around to face him, his hands gripping my arms in a way that wasn't painful, but was the closest thing to it. "Why would you do something so fucking stupid, huh?"

He was towering over me, his eyes filled with anger…and also with fear. "You're hurting me," I whispered, and his hold on me loosened just a touch. "Everyone else had their hands full, and couldn't help me, and I wasn't going to die like that…I would have rather gone by my own hand."

"I understand that," he whispered, his anger diminishing somewhat, leaving only fear and concern behind. "But next time, give me a holler…make a damned effort at least, alright, doll? I'm never so busy that I can't give you a hand…and I'm sorry that I hurt you."

I'd already forgiven him…and the feeling in my chest, the one that I hated, swelled even bigger…damn…I was a goner for sure.


	6. Endeavoring

Chapter Six

Endeavoring

Desma's POV

There was a moment of awkwardness that followed the little conversation I'd had with The Nose, one of those self-conscious instances when you realize that you probably said more than you should have said, or maybe your eyes revealed emotions that you would have rather kept secret, or when you're struck by the strange urge to touch someone, to hug them, or, God forbid, to give their lips a little taste test, and that was the moment that encompassed us, and what was worse was that I could feel myself blushing…yes, _blushing_…in front of him and all the others…sheesh…I may as well have been crying again.

In light of the fact that The Nose and I were left in a situation that made us more than a little uncomfortable, it was therefore a kindness when The Bear came striding up to everyone, dragging the carcass of one of the beasts behind him, muttering about this and that in Russian, providing us with the perfect opportunity to move away from one another and rejoin the others. If they'd noticed anything odd between me and The Nose they kept it to themselves, which was also a kindness…although if I thought about it, they probably had a lot more on their minds as it was, and wouldn't have noticed if I'd given in to my impulses and climbed my rescuer like a tree, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

"Where did they go?" the doctor asked, looking around as if he was confused. "Why would they just leave like that?"

Was he actually sorry to see them go? "_They_ didn't have anything to do with the decision," I said, my heart still pounding from the hell that we'd just survived, and, though I hated to admit it, from my encounter with The Nose afterward. "It was the whistle that called them back…otherwise we might not be having this conversation right now."

Speaking of The Nose, he'd managed to shed the protective demeanor quickly, too damn quickly for my taste, taking up the mantle of our leader again. "Alright people, listen up," he called, turning to see that we were all paying attention. "We just went through a hell of a lot of ammo, so everyone needs to do a quick shell count, see just how much trouble we're in."

He bent on the ground, giving his attention to his shotgun. "We're going to have to be careful and go easy on our rounds," he continued, pulling the drum magazine off of his weapon while he spoke. "Everyone needs to reload, right now, before we go any further."

All of us carrying a firearm immediately went to work…along with the doctor's mouth. "Wait just a damned minute," he said, his voice taking on that tone that scraped across my nerves. "Would someone please tell me what me what the hell is going on here?"

The Nose raised his head, pulling his gaze away from his task, throwing a look at the doctor that was both incredulous and annoyed. "Something's hunting us," he answered quietly, and almost immediately the doctor sagged, folded in on himself, as though that idea hadn't even suggested itself before that moment.

"It's all there," my protector continued. "The cages. The soldier. Us. There's no mistake in our being brought here…our presence serves a purpose. This planet, wherever it is, is one big game preserve…and we're the game."

I'd already reached that same conclusion, but it wasn't until I heard the words spoken aloud that I really allowed myself the full measure of my fear. I found myself gazing at the tall grass that filled the forest, wondering to myself what sort of creatures might be hiding within its cover…possibly worse than the beasts who'd almost wiped us out.

"Maybe you didn't notice," The Nose said, rising once more to his feet. "Those bastards used those things to flush us out, in the same way that someone would do if they were hunting wild boar, or quail. They split us up, to see how we'd react, and you can bet your ass that they were keeping a close watch."

"Why is it that you know so much about their motives?" I asked, staring down at the monster's corpse, trying to imagine a creature worse than the one we'd already encountered.

"I know because it's what I would do," he answered, affording the beast, then us, a final glance before moving away.

He hadn't taken more than a couple of steps before The African told him to stop, looking over our group several times, his gaze growing more and more panicked as he did so. "We are missing one," he said, moving his head in a silent count. "I count seven when there ought to be eight."

At that moment a cry for help came from further into the trees, and I immediately recognized the voice as belonging to The Ponytail. It wasn't surprising that someone had ended up separated from the rest of the group, after the helter-skelter that we'd just lived through, and I shuddered to think what might have happened to him, what might have grabbed hold of him during the melee.

We slowly passed through the trees into a clearing, weapons at the ready once more, and found him sitting on the far side of the open space, his back turned toward us, again calling for us to help him. We stopped on the spot where the leaves of the forest met the grass of the clearing and stared at him, confused by what we were seeing, or at least _I_ was. My confusion did not override my need to help, however, and as he called out weakly one last time I started toward him, only to be stopped by The Nose's hand on my arm.

"Not so fast," he whispered, his fingers tightening on my flesh.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, irritation growing in me when I thought of the numerous ways in which The Ponytail might be hurt, and that we were only wasting time being overly cautious. "He needs our help."

"Listen to me, Spi-…er…hon-…er…will you, please?" he continued in a whisper. "It's a trap…they're using him to draw us out…now _stay_ _right_ _here_."

Slowly he started to move forward, releasing my arm with a caress of his fingertips. Oh, sure…I was supposed to stay put, twiddling my thumbs, while he meandered nonchalantly into a situation that he _knew_ was a trap…that sounded like a _wonderful_ plan to me…I suppose that I could add mule headed and stuttering to his ever-growing list of faults, though if I was being honest, both his nose and his flat ass were starting to grow on me…dammit.

In the end I just couldn't help myself…I knew that he'd told me to stay where I was, but for some reason my feet just wouldn't obey, and I found myself following him, doing my best not to draw attention to myself. He heard me, of course, and turned to glare at me, shaking his head at me like I was a child, then bent to the ground as The Ponytail called for help once more, taking a large rock into his hand, then straightening.

He turned back again to look at me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask whether or not I still had it in my mind to disobey him. The naughty part of me wanted me to nod my head at him, but fortunately my wiser side won me over and I shook my head, content to let him be the boss, unquestioned, for that moment…but only for that moment.

It turned out that it had been a good idea to stay put after all, as he tossed the rock onto the grass and the ground seemed to come alive with blades that rose up and sliced at the rock as soon as it made contact. Instantly we were on alert, guns raised, ready to strike, but no further attack was launched, just the weak pleading from one of our team, being used to reel the rest of us in.

Again, my Nose turned to look at me, and I found myself wishing that he would stop, but not for the reasons that I initially had. There was too much there now, the unfulfilled wish to have him comfort me, as he had protected me, and that was the need that plagued me every time he looked at me that way.

"The trick is to wound one man," The African spoke behind me, startling me. "To make him suffer, make him bleed, leave him no choice but to cry for help, so you can kill all those who wander into the trap you've set up around him."

The Nose turned his attention to The African, then back to The Ponytail, clearly torn over what to do.

"I am familiar with this trick because it is one that I have done myself," The African continued, attempting, I suppose, to assuage any guilt that may have remained in doing the inevitable, but it didn't help me out at all.

"I guess this means that we leave him here," The Scorpion said in that annoying offhanded way of his, the one that I hated, the one that said that he didn't give a shit about anyone or anything…except himself, of course.

I whirled around to glare at him, not surprised by his comment, but pissed none the less. "Oh, come on now," he said in what I suppose he intended as a cajoling tone. "Look at him lady…he's got nothing more in him. There's not one damn thing that we can do for him…am I right?"

He aimed his question at The Nose, and as he turned his attention away from The Ponytail my eyes pleaded with him to say that there _was_ something that we could do, but that wasn't the look that was given back to me, unfortunately. "We have to leave him," he said, agreeing with The Scorpion's proposal, sweeping his eyes around at everyone before ending with me.

"I can't do that," I answered, incredulous that he expected us, expected _me_ just to go along with the idea of leaving one of our own behind, to die like a dog, all by himself.

"Well, that decision will be on you then," he responded, shocking me even further. It was the sort of behavior that I would expect from The Scorpion, but not from him. Suddenly it was as though he, like the convict, cared for no one but himself.

He turned and walked away, emphasizing his own decision, and slowly, one by one, the others followed. The Bear stayed with me the longest, and I could see that he was conflicted as well, but in the end he left with the others, clearly not bothered enough by his conscience to lend me any support. Again The Ponytail cried for help, but they walked on, as though they hadn't heard him, and I wanted to curse them all as cowards.

I thought back on all of the wrong that I'd done in my life lately. I thought of having Rodney Milner in my sights, my finger tracing the inner groove of my trigger, just as it was doing now, while I stared at The Ponytail. I remembered all of my inner struggles, as I contemplated killing someone, murdering them, to achieve justice for another, and realized that this was different, that what I'd thought earlier was true, that I couldn't leave this man to die like a dog. If we managed to find it in ourselves to ease the suffering of a dog that couldn't be saved…then how could I possibly not extend the same kindness to this man?

I raised the sights of my H & K to my eye and took careful aim, remembering all of the lessons that my Papa had taught me in the woods behind our home…and I fired, a shot straight through the heart, giving him an instantaneous death…or so I'd thought.

I lowered my weapon, sick to my stomach, but relieved that his suffering was finally over. I started to walk away, when suddenly I heard his voice again, the same cry for help, his voice raspier now, and I just about peed my pants. I looked around at the trees, remembering the moment with The African, when he'd sensed something that I couldn't see, something that terrified him, and I wondered if this was another one of those moments. There was no doubt in my mind that The Ponytail was dead…and dead men couldn't call for help, could they?

Royce's POV

It was a little disconcerting for me, and I imagine that every man would agree with me, if he found himself in the same boat, to realize that the woman who you were starting to form a serious design on had more balls than you did…more than you and every other man in your company _combined_, as a matter of fact. My little Spitfire had stayed behind to do what none of the rest of us had bothered to do, and now she was back in our midst, just as I'd known she would be, but I had no doubt in my mind that I'd just knocked myself down by a peg or two in her estimation, not only for that, but for giving her the idea that I didn't give a shit about her either…and that bothered the hell out of me.

I came across a sight that interested me on the forest floor and motioned for everyone to stop while I squatted down to have a look. This should have been a sign for everyone to wait _quietly_, but as usual, what should have been, and what actually was with this bunch was not the same damn thing.

"What do you think we're going to do now?" The Doc asked, standing right behind me, on my right, the spot on my left taken by The Spitfire, which surprised me, pleasantly so, I might add.

"The best thing to do would be to go to higher ground," she answered, moving so that her leg rubbed up against my back, which pleased me even more, though I couldn't say whether she'd done so deliberately, or unconsciously.

"You really think that's the best idea? I mean, we're being confined on some sort of alien planet, where we're being stalked like we're game of some sort, and your solution is for us to walk around some more, really?"

I really hated it when he started up in that whiny tone of voice, and I was willing to bet a fairly large sum of money on the fact that I wasn't the only one who felt that way.

"It wants us to be running," I answered in her stead, sniffing at the spoor that I'd found on the ground. "Because that's the way that it likes to hunt. This jungle belongs to this hunter, whatever it is, so that means that we're stuck playing its game, by its rules, whether we like it or not. If we try to make a run for it, then we're going to die, plain and simple."

"So what do you suggest as an alternative then?" my Spitfire asked, questioning my decisions, just as she always did…it was part of her charm, I suppose.

"There's one thing that we need to know, and that's who it is that we're dealing with. The dog's…or whatever you want to call the bastards…trail heads off in this direction. I say we go after them…I think that's the best plan, the only option, we have right now."

* * *

It was a little distracting, at a point that I needed zero distractions in my life, watching her make her way through the forest in front of me, following the tracks of the ugly bastards who'd scattered and done their best to eat us earlier. San Quentin had been right on the money when he'd told her that her ass was awesome…shit…I'd be willing to go one step further and say that her ass was the best that I'd ever seen, and I'd seen my fair share, let me tell you.

See…these were not the sort of thoughts that someone whose life was in mortal peril ought to be having. I should have been concentrating on staying smart, staying observant, and staying alive, but what was I doing instead? I was fixated on the curvy ass sashaying back and forth in front of me, doing all sorts of things to my pecker in the process, one lustful thought leading to another until the forethought on my mind was not surviving, but instead was stripping her naked and having my fill of all that she had to offer…I really needed to get my priorities straight, wouldn't you agree?

She stopped a little ways in front of me and raised her sights to her eye, having a little look around. "Do you see anything?" I asked, shamelessly taking full advantage of the need to whisper to place my mouth right next to her ear, struggling against, and defeating, the urge to rub myself against the tush that I'd just been admiring…just barely defeating it, I might add…damn, she smelled good.

"No movement of any kind," she responded, and damned if she didn't bump up against me, making my earlier struggle unnecessary. I couldn't say for sure how I managed it, but in the end I was able to move away from her, from that warm softness that was just barely touching me, and lead the group forward, which was my job, a crappy one, one that I didn't want, but my job anyway.

I wasn't sure what it was that I'd expected to find, nothing at this point would have come as a surprise, and given the smell that had started assaulting my nose from a good distance away, I'd known that it would be bad…just not quite as bad as it turned out to be. We'd managed to stumble out of one hell, barely surviving, damned lucky to have suffered only one casualty and were now smack dab in the middle of another…but then what was new about that?

The monument with human bones piled around its base had been bad…but this was worse, a hell of a lot worse. There were all sorts of bodies strung up in trees, missing their heads as well as their skin, and I had to wonder if some of the skulls strewn here and there belonged to any of them, or if they'd been collected somewhere else, from some other lucky bastard.

It was like freakin' Ed Gein's backyard with all the skinned carcasses, piles of bones, and skins stretched on frames to be seasoned, either that or some Nazi's treasure trove of souvenirs from his days in the Third Reich…long story short, it was creepiness at its highest…or more appropriately, _lowest_ point, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"I'd say that we're not the only ones that these fuckers are hunting," San Quentin said, looking like he might snap at any moment, and who could really blame him. Some of the remains were familiar to me, and no doubt to everyone else as well, but more than a few were unfamiliar, definitely belonging to a foreign species.

My Spitfire was glancing around, the look of outrage and disgust growing in her eyes, and I watched as she bit back a wretch when she caught the sight, as well as the smell, of a slab that looked like it was used for butchering. Poor girl…she was trying so hard to fit in as one of the guys, for some odd reason, but I don't think anyone would have faulted her for getting sick.

We moved in relative silence, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone who might be hovering nearby, and as I passed over the remnants of death and destruction my eyes were drawn to pole off to itself in the death camp…and to the creature strapped to it.


	7. Enraged

Chapter Seven

Enraged

Royce's POV

I have seen a lot of things in my life that would surely boggle the minds of others. I have seen beauty and majesty that many would never appreciate, splendor that had brought tears to my eyes. I have seen and smelled enough blood and gore to last me seven lifetimes, more horror than any one person should ever have to endure. It took a lot to shock me, I wasn't one who was easily scandalized, but staring up at the man…alien…the creature, tied on that stake, the same kind that had stood as a monument to human destruction in the forest, and I found that I was speechless, literally speechless.

It would seem that he, or _it_, wasn't responsible for us being here, because it was a stretch that the one hunting us would be bound up the way that this guy with the dreads was, but if there was someone hanging around that was a bigger badass than he was, that meant that we were all screwed. It was hard to imagine anyone more alarming than this creature, which awakened fear within me despite the fact that he was incapacitated.

Maybe it was because he was so damned huge, so much so that it made me, a guy who wasn't exactly short, feel positively tiny in comparison. Or maybe it was the reptilian skin and taloned feet, along with the odd skull and Rastafied hair. It could very well be the fact that he was one ugly mofo, with _mandibles_ of all things…whatever the reason, fear had taken hold of me, and all that I could do was stare at it.

My Spitfire was standing next to me, staring, along with everyone else, in horror at what she saw, but for a split-second there was something else in her gaze, recognition, if I was to guess, and I wondered where in hell she would have ever seen anything like this creature before, and what else she might know, but this wasn't the time or the place for any Q & A. She looked away from the creature, the recollection in her eyes growing stronger, then raised her eyes to mine for just a moment, before turning her gaze back to the alien, shuddering as she stared at it…yep…I would definitely get to the bottom of that one, provided that I lived long enough, of course.

An idea came to me then, that this was another one of their tests, their _tricks_, and I slowly slipped away, out of the camp, unseen by the others, who were still fixated on the monster. As I hid myself I watched The Russian approach the beast cautiously, his curiosity overriding his common sense, and I wondered what exactly is was that he intended to do, and watched in amazement as he put the massive barrel of his M134 against the creature's shoulder and that was all it took to make the alien wake-up and instantly go apeshit, letting out a roar that no doubt made The Russian piss his pants…it scared the hell out of me, and I wasn't even close to the damned thing.

Through the shouts of fear, and more than a few expletives, I heard The Spitfire tell everyone that we'd made a terrible mistake, in other words, that we needed to get out while the getting was good. There was a lot of logic in that line of thinking, but I hadn't found out what I needed to know, and had no intention of hauling ass just yet…unfortunately for me, The Doc chose that moment to notice that I was gone, and pointed it out to the others.

"Hey, where'd he go?" he asked, glancing around. "The tough guy's gone."

I could always count on him to louse things up for me, couldn't I? "He left us here," my Spitfire said, anger and disbelief clear in her voice. "He didn't even have the balls to fight."

Ouch…that hurt. "He's here," The African said, and I wondered if he was referring to me, or to the hunter. It seemed that I would just have to wonder forever, as a shot hit the big man, followed by a spike that materialized as it protruded out of his chest, a spike that held him in the air while his finger tightened on his trigger and spent all of his shells into the ground.

I took that as my hint to reappear, aiming Liv in all directions and letting loose with a volley. My rounds tore up everything in the vicinity, and when I stopped for a breather beings with glowing eyes turned up out of thin air, showing themselves for the first time, though it was likely that they'd been there all along. I had my answer then, that the thing tied to the stake _was_ one of the hunters that had been pursuing us, or at least belonged to the same species as the hunters, whatever the hell they were.

"Everybody run!" I hollered over my shoulder, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that we'd lingered too damn long. I continued to put Liv to work, doing my best to take one of the bastards out, and The Russian, who ignored my order to haul ass, lent me and Liv a hand, a very big, very proficient hand at that, and given the noises that were rising up from the monsters, I'd say we were doing a pretty good job.

The African was still alive, even with two of those spikes stuck through his chest, suspended in mid-air by spears stuck into the ground by an adversary that chose to remain invisible, but which no doubt closely resembled the ugly cocksucker tied to that alien totem. He gurgled and gasped, but didn't die, as The Russian and I peppered the landscape with rounds, aided by The Asian, so I took a page out of my Spitfire's book and put him out of his misery with one shot between the eyes, knowing it was more of a kindness to him than what he was suffering through, then I turned and started to make a run for it.

The ugly bastard tied to the totem was raising holy hell by that point, twisting and bellowing, wounded, it would seem, if that green shit seeping out of him was blood, but I barely gave him a second glance, stopping only long enough to see The Russian's firearm taken out by a blast of blue light from the alien hunters, before I took off again.

It would seem that we'd been successful in one bid during our confrontation, and that was that we'd managed to royally piss off the alien hunters, if the red lasers taking aim at us while we ran hell-bent for leather through the forest were any indication, along with the explosions that blew trees in half all around us, explosions with our names written all over them.

I continued to yell at everyone to run, and one of them, San Quentin, of course, chose to face plant himself into the ground instead, but I'd be damned if I was going to stop for anyone…unless it was The Spitfire, of course. Luckily for the convict, The Asian was a more caring person than I was, and he was bodily lifted to his feet and halfway carried along as the silent man continued on his way.

Everything was going just fine, if you discounted the lasers and the explosions…until the ground disappeared beneath my feet and I found myself tumbling, quite painfully, I might add, down a steep hill, over and over, watching the world fly by, praying that I didn't break my damned neck, followed closely by my little Spitfire, who let loose with a very unladylike curse each time her body hit the ground, and so on and so forth until every single one of us was rolling down the hill, bound for God only knows where.

As wonderfully as things were going at that point, no destination would have come as a surprise to me, and wouldn't you know it…the hill ended in a cliff…a cliff standing over a very large, no doubt very deep, and possibly filled with creatures that could swallow us whole, body of water…joy of freakin' joys. I rolled off the edge and started the long plunge, having no time or energy to try for form, or a nice swan dive before I hit the water, thinking for the umpteenth time since I'd dropped onto this planet that it would be a miracle if I survived, an absolute, honest to God miracle.

One by one we all splashed, screaming all the way, into the water, much in the same fashion as we'd rolled down the hill…shit…that meant that our weapons were taking a swim as well…how wonderful.

It was amazing that we managed to have the energy to swim, after all that we'd just gone through, but we all bucked up and made it to shore, which was a large rock pile beneath the cliff, where we all collapsed to have a little rest. While I was sitting there, catching my breath, I looked up to see The Spitfire approaching me, a very determined look on her face, and stupid me thought that she was coming over to see that I was okay…which was a serious mistake on my part, let me tell you.

She walked right up to where I sat, my body hurting in spots that I didn't even know I had, and bent to place her H & K very carefully on the ground, after which she drew back a small fist, planted her feet against the rock, and let loose a punch to my face that swung my head around and hurt like a son of a bitch. Damn…who would have ever guessed that such a little person could pack so much power in one punch? I sure as hell wouldn't have, and reacted instantly, angrily, jumping to my feet, my fist curling at my side, until I remembered who it was that had hit me and backed down, knowing that no matter how pissed I was, I'd just as soon slit my throat than hit a woman…especially this woman.

"You bastard," she hissed, her big brown eyes sparking furiously at me. "You used us, set us up." She turned to look at the others, who were watching warily at first, then turned increasingly hostile gazes in my direction. "He led us straight into that nightmare, and then hid himself and waited for those things to attack…he used us as bait."

There was nothing that she'd said that wasn't true, it just sounded a hundred times worse than it was in the _way_ that she chose to say it. "I needed to know who it was that we were up against," I explained, trying to make her look at me as I made my case, but apparently the sight of me made her sick, given that she sneered and turned away. "And now I know…_we_ know."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change the fact that we lost a man," San Quentin pointed out, which was the ultimate in irony, considering their violent, albeit, short acquaintance.

"You were ready to kill him before," I reminded him, while in my heart I did feel a pang of guilt, remembering the big African as he knelt to pray.

"Yeah, well, that was then, wasn't it?" he answered angrily, offering yet another example of the weird logic that coursed through his brain.

"At least we can say that he didn't die in vain," I reminded him, reminded all of them.

"Is that right?" he asked, his tone growing even more belligerent. "Oh, I see…it's better for us to know without a shadow of a doubt what it feels like to have our asses handed to us, fucking gift wrapped, and tied up with a bow?"

I had to hand it to the convict…he certainly had a way with words. "We found out that we're up against more than one hunter," I answered; trying to stay as calm as possible, though my Spitfire had already done a dandy of a job getting me madder than hell. "We know that they use both projectile and energy-based weaponry, that they use some kind of concealment to blend in with their surroundings. We know that they're bigger than we are, much bigger, and stronger, but also bulkier…the fact of the matter is that we know more now than we did, and we're better off for it."

Apparently The Spitfire had heard all that she cared to of my explanations. "What a load of bullshit," she said angrily, the sparks in her eyes growing to an intensity that seemed like it should have been painful to her. "You put us in danger for _yourself_, plain and simple, so save us the "heroic sacrifice" excuses, alright?"

She moved closer to me, so close that she was pressed against me, staring up into my eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, just as I'd been dreaming of, only I had a good idea that if I did something stupid, like kiss her, at this point, that she'd no doubt castrate me on the spot, so I resisted the urge.

"You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself, you work better on your own, that's what you want, right? Well, guess what…your wish is granted."

Oh, shit…that wasn't what I wanted to hear. I didn't want to drive her away, but while I was at it, since I was the one being judged so harshly, I figured I could use some company on the hot seat, remembering the way that she'd looked at that alien tied up all by his lonesome.

"Alright honey, since I've explained myself, why don't you do the same, huh? Why don't you do your own show and tell, and give us the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, backing down just a little.

"Bullshit," I answered, refusing to let her off now, not when this was one of the missing pieces of the puzzle. "You know _exactly_ what it is that I'm talking about. I'm talking about the look that came over your face when you saw that thing strung up in the camp, the way that you reacted, like you'd seen one of them before."

I turned my attention to the others. "She knows what they are," I told them, then turned back to look at her, moving one step closer. "Isn't that right?"

She shrank away from me and took a deep breath, turning to look at the others. The Russian, who I suspected had a soft spot where she was concerned, nodded his head, encouraging her to tell what she knew. She returned her gaze to mine, and all the spark gone from her pretty eyes, eyes that entreated with me to let it drop, but I couldn't let it go…we all needed to hear what it was that she knew.

Desma's POV

I couldn't believe that I'd hit him, that I'd allowed my temper to get the best of me…just as I couldn't believe that I'd let my guard down back at that camp enough that he saw that I knew something that he didn't know, that none of them knew…that I recognized, not only by reputation, but also by sight, what it was that I was looking at. They were the monsters from stories that my father had shared with me, fables given to him by an old friend, make-believe that I'd seen come to life in a book that I was never supposed to have seen, making the fairytales all too real, and now face-to-face for myself. They'd convinced me that the monsters didn't exist…they'd lied to me.

"I've never heard a proper name given to them," I began, irritated when I heard the tremor in my voice. "I only heard the stories that Alan would tell to my Papa, late at night, when I was supposed to be asleep. They were old friends from Papa's time in the Green Berets, and he'd visit us from time to time, always late at night, always gone first thing in the morning…Momma didn't like him very much. She said that it would be best for Papa to forget that time altogether.

I remember that the year was Nineteen Eighty-Seven and the place was Guatemala. Alan led a spec-op team deep into the jungles, six men that he trusted, and a liaison from the CIA…and he was the only one who made it out. When he was questioned he explained how his team had come into contact with an alien being, a being he described in detail…a description that matches that thing tied up on the totem, back in the camp."

I paused for breath, daring, for the first time since I'd begun, to look at The Nose. It was obvious that he was still angry with me, very angry, but his eyes softened just a little as he looked back at me, and that encouraged me to continue with my story.

"It was cloaked in a camouflage that altered with ambient light, making it all but indiscernible in our spectrum. It had the ability to see in infrared, picking up on the heat signatures of its victims…Alan learned this, and used mud to mask his…and that was how he was able to defeat it. His team, however, were not so lucky. The creature hunted them and killed them, one by one."

My story, which I'd always believed was only pretend, the attempts of grown-ups who knew that I was out of bed and naughtily listening at the door, scared the hell out of those around me, just as I'd known it would…all but The Nose, who I was beginning to suspect was never scared of anything.

"I don't know what these things are, or where they've come from, but I do know one thing…and that is that we're going to take them down, every last ugly son of a bitch." His voice was confident, as always, making me feel even weaker, because my heart was hammering against my ribs. "We're going to set up a defensive perimeter, give them the impression that we're hiding, and they'll have to come after us…that's sure to be in their nature, and then we force them into a tight spot, place them in intersecting fields of fire…this is possible people…we _can_ do this. I can't do it by myself, I'll need your help…but it can be done."

I knew that last bit was for my benefit, because The Asian and The Bear were sure to go along with his plan without question, and the doctor and the convict had no choice but to agree, lest they get left behind, completely defenseless, unless you counted a homemade shank and a scalpel as legitimate forms of defense against the monsters, which I didn't.

There was no getting around what had to be done…I knew that the outcome was inevitable…but I sure as hell didn't have to like it, did I?

* * *

It was a time of reflection for all of us, sitting around in the forest, waiting for a chance to launch The Nose's plan. The Asian sat like a man preparing to meditate, a stick stuck in his mouth, looking here and there, showing no sign of anything other than relaxation, if one didn't look at his eyes, or at the end of the stick, which had been chewed heavily, as he watched and waited.

The Scorpion could always be counted upon to offer his two cents, whether you wanted them or not, and took advantage of the stillness and the silence to fill the doctor in on the grand plans that he was making for when he left this lousy planet and made it back home, dreams that involved copious amounts of narcotics and the raping of numerous 'fine bitches', charming plans that the doctor awkwardly agreed were definitely in order, our own little jungle version of the childish need to be accepted…I wasn't sure which of them was more pathetic.

After that uncomfortable moment played out the doctor sought better company, finding it beside The Bear, who was going over his sidearm to ensure that it was in order.

"You shouldn't talk to him, you know?" he said, not taking his eyes away from the pistol.

"Yeah, you're right," the doctor agreed, twiddling his thumbs and looking around at the trees. It was touching that The Bear was doing his best to take the doctor under his wing, but if I was going to offer any advice I would warn him to stay as far away from the doctor as he could get.

I was doing my own work, on my H & K, doing my best to ignore The Nose, who was sitting beside me, but my efforts were futile, at best, because I just couldn't _not_ notice the way that he kept looking at me, that old way that he'd watched me, the one that had irritated me so much to begin with, which now, infuriatingly, made my heart beat faster.

"How long are you planning to stay mad at me?" he asked, his eyes smiling at me when I turned to glare at him, a smile that traveled to his lips when I told him, very rudely, what I thought of him at that moment. "Aw, don't be that way honey," he answered, pulling out his huge knife and using it to spear a bug of some sort that was passing by, making we wonder, for one horrified moment, if he intended to eat it. I was pretty hungry myself, but not to the extent where I was prepared to munch on bugs.

"Do you know what the difference in me and you is?" he asked, tossing the bug away, alleviating my fears. "We have a lot in common, for the most part, you just don't do it professionally, so you feel like you're doing it for some greater good, and you don't have to admit that you enjoy it."

He didn't know a damn thing, did he? "Why are you like this?" I asked quietly. "What happened to make you think the way that you do…who's responsible for you being so messed up?"

He chuckled softly, the sort of chuckle that made a chill go up my spine. "'There is no hunting like the hunting of a man. And those who've hunted armed men long enough, and like it, never really care for anything else thereafter.'"

Hmm…Ernest Hemingway. "That's almost poetic," I said, turning to smile at him, the first I'd offered since all hell had broken loose. "Did you come up with that all on your own?"

I almost expected him to lie, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't. "No, I can't claim that one," he said, returning his knife to its scabbard. "Some guy named Hemingway came up with that, but I'd say that it fits, wouldn't you?


	8. Engaged

Chapter Eight

Engaged

Desma's POV

I didn't want to be mad at him, couldn't he see that? I was growing quite fond of him, much to my chagrin, finding that I liked to look at his eyes now, even when he was watching me in _that_ way…alright…especially when he watching me in _that_ way. They were so pretty, the green so different from my brown, always filled with his emotions when he probably would have liked to keep them at bay. I found myself studying his hands, tracing the line of his palms, concealed by black gloves, his fingers bared, long fingers, making me think of things that I had no business even _considering_, let alone wanting. I watched his lips closely while he spoke to me, wondering what they'd feel like against my own, or, even better, as they slid down my bare body. Hell, I was even getting used to his huge nose and found myself admiring his flat ass…dammit…what was wrong with me?

I probably would have told him that no, I wasn't still mad at him, I might have even shared more than that with him, but the sudden rustling of leaves in the forest kind of ruined my plans, killing the mood, if you know what I mean. I quietly made my approach in the direction that the sound had come from, my H & K at the ready, with my Nose right in front of me. We moved to a log that had fallen over and crouched behind it, side by side, scanning for a sign that would give the presence of our hunters away, but there was none to be found.

I took a closer look through my scope and started when I saw something dash by, a something that made The Nose hiss a very dirty word beneath his breath, and then it darted by again.

"Why doesn't it come any closer?" I asked, thinking that they ought to be attacking by now.

"The bastards can see our traps," he said angrily, turning his head to look behind me, and I started once more, this time more of a shiver, when I felt his lips brush over the skin on my shoulder…well, there was one mystery kind of solved for me…his mouth _did_ feel good.

He moved behind me, running his hand along my waist as he did, causing all kinds of quivers to dance along my body and join with the trepidation inside of me, making for a very odd combination of emotions. I watched him crawl along on the ground, moving to a log where the doctor was doing his best to hide, and I was sorry to see him go, something I chastised myself about, not that it did any damn good.

"Hey, Doc," he whispered, "I think that I've discovered a way that you can be of use to us."

Oh, this was priceless…I found myself holding my breath, closing my eyes while I waited to hear the "live bait" suggestion be presented, and what do you know…that was exactly what my Nose had in mind, not that the doctor looked overly thrilled with or supportive of the decision…oh, well…you can't please everyone, can you?

* * *

I was surprised that he didn't run like a girl…he seemed like the type that would. I hadn't really paid any attention before that moment, but he actually had a nice, respectable, _masculine_ way of running…it was just too bad that I'd noticed this now, when he might be seconds away from death, so I wouldn't have long to appreciate it. Everything else about him grated on me, made me downright uncomfortable, and I was surprised at the level of dislike that he inspired in me.

He was whining as he ran, which was to be expected, and he was also wasting energy on cursing, when he ought to have been focused on breathing, on surviving. It wasn't long before one of the creatures was tailing him, not even bothering with camouflage any longer, and I struggled to line it up in my sights, but it was moving too quickly, unsteadily. It moved into place right behind him, gaining on him, and I found myself joining in the cursing fest taking place around me out of frustration.

"Just fucking shoot it already!" The Doctor yelled frantically, his panic growing to a point where he was nearly crying. "For chrissakes, why aren't you bastards shooting?"

At that moment the creature leapt at him, and lined itself up in my sights, and I took the shot, knocking it away from the doctor, watching as it bounced off of a tree and hit the ground. Surprisingly enough I was pleased that I had nailed the shot, even though the life I saved was that of someone who gave me the heebie-jeebies.

The Doctor, of course, was completely ungrateful for what I'd done. "_Fuck…all…of…you_!" he exploded, still looking as though he was on the verge of tears, and I might have felt bad for him if I hadn't just saved his life, but all things considered I thought that he ought to have been thanking us, rather than cursing us.

We converged upon the hunter, certain that their numbers were now down by one, so imagine our surprise when we found a dried-up husk of a body waiting for us on the ground, crawling with insects like those that had scurried about in the floor of that cage in the forest, as opposed to one of the alien creatures that we'd encountered back in the death camp.

"Is the bastard dead?" The Scorpion asked, coming up behind us. "And if he's dead, then why ain't you smiling-oh, shit."

He echoed my sentiments exactly. "I think that maybe this is the one who was in the cage," The Bear said, "maybe it thought that we were the ones who dropped it from the sky."

"That was a good shot," The Nose complimented me, something that would have pleased me, had I not been aware of the fact that I'd made an error.

"No, it wasn't," I answered, correcting him while I looked at the tree that my bullet had hit instead. "I missed the shot."

* * *

They'd all been smiling at me, offering their own form of congratulations, but the smiles quickly turned to frowns while they processed the difference between what they'd thought had happened, and what the truth of the matter was.

"_I'm over here_," a voice whispered, a voice that wasn't supposed to be there, one that didn't belong to any of our group. We all looked around, hearts pounding, or at least _mine_ was. "_No, not there, over here_."

No matter which way we turned, all that we saw was trees. "_Can you find me_?" the voice continued to taunt us, and my knees felt like they had turned to water when I heard the sound that I knew was one of their weapons warming up…right behind my Nose.

He looked into my eyes, and I saw a flicker of fear there before they closed. "_Turn around_," the voice commanded softly, and I saw the air behind him flicker; come to life, as the monster chose that moment to reveal its presence. He showed more nerve than I would have ever been able to stir in myself, turning slowly to face the enemy, rather than collapsing onto the ground.

"What…the _fuck_…are you?" he asked, and I was torn between a burst of pride at his words, for having the cojones to stay defiant in the face of danger, and cringing for the exact same reason…this was an alien hunter, intent on taking him out, and it probably wasn't a good idea to provoke it's temper.

The creature straightened then, and reached up slowly to remove the mask hiding its ugly face from us…only to reveal a face that wasn't alien at all…it was a human face, one that smiled grimly at us as it was uncovered.

'What am I?" he asked wonderingly, his voice low and raspy. "I'm _alive_…that's what I am."

We all stared at him in stunned silence, at the human who'd clothed and presented himself as the enemy, this man who'd managed to survive, but for how long? "You need to learn to keep your voices down," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You talk too damn loud," he continued, taking a deep breath through his nose after he spoke. "And your stink has been strong in my nose ever since you got here. If I can smell you, and if I can hear you, then you can bet your ass that _they_ can too."

Still no one spoke, and though it was bad manners to do so, I just couldn't help but stare at him, along with the others. A roll of thunder broke through the hush in the woods, and the stranger raised his eyes to the clouds. "Storm's coming soon," he murmured, "You'll want to come with me now."

"Wait, please," I said, stopping him as he turned to walk away. "Who are you anyway?"

I just couldn't make myself leave with this man, to follow and trust him, not without knowing who he was. If he was surprised by my question he hid it well, almost smiling as he answered in a disturbingly sing-song voice, "Noland, Noland, run away, and you'll live to fight another day."

Okay…that _really_ didn't help. I'd been looking for some reassurance from him, and now I was even more freaked out than I had been before. "I'm the one who got away from them, girlie," he said in a normal tone of voice, well, normal for him, which meant that it was said in a whisper. "Which means that I'm the one that you don't want to fuck with, you understand?"

He turned once more and started to walk away, and The Nose stared after him for a moment, and then turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow as though he was asking me how to proceed. My first instinct was for us to stay away from this guy, as far away as we could get, but on the other hand, he'd managed to survive, so maybe he could help us…I just wished that I didn't have such an overwhelming sense of dread plaguing me…one that said that we were making a horrible mistake as we followed him.

Royce's POV

I don't know why I'd been working under the assumption that we were the only ones that the alien bastards had ever dropped onto this planet. It wasn't that I thought that I was special, or that I thought that I had to be the first in everything…it just hadn't occurred to me that there might be someone else on this planet who'd been taken, and who'd survived…he could be of use to us.

It was just a shame, given what an asset that he could be to our motley little crew, that he appeared to be a one hundred percent, certifiable, genuine article, bugshit nutter…were we ever going to catch a freakin' break? It was obvious that everyone was a little wary of him, my Spitfire in particular, but at this point what other choice did we have but to follow him?

We kept a good distance between our group and our crazy new friend, and even with that precaution I didn't feel secure until I placed myself in front of The Spitfire…if he even thought about trying anything with her, he'd have to make it through me first. It felt like we'd been walking forever, but we passed some interesting sights, the most remarkable being a huge, broke down something of some sort…only we weren't going to pass by it, as it turned out…it _was_ our destination.

I wasn't crazy about the idea of following this whacko into his makeshift home, but seeing as how I was tired and there wasn't any place else that could be called marginally safe I did exactly that, boosting myself up through the hatch that he had just passed through, pausing just long enough to help The Spitfire up after me. She was a little on the short side, which I didn't mind at all, but which made it a little difficult for her when it came to boosting herself up into places that were high off of the ground, and I sure as hell didn't want any of the other guys putting their hands on her ass to give her a lift.

After we were all inside, we clustered together, moving together as one, clear in our distrust of our new friend, who turned to grin at us before scooting on his belly down a narrow tunnel. "Journey's not over just yet," he called, speaking for the first time in a normal tone of voice. "You haven't even begun to feel the true vibe of this place."

Oh, yeah…I was pretty damned sure that I had already gotten the full gist on the _vibe_ of this place, and its loony toon resident, but what the hell…might as well get the benefit of the full ride, wouldn't you agree? I switched on the light resting on top of Liv's barrel and followed behind the weirdo…after the day that I'd had, what was the worst that could happen?

Damn tunnels went on forever, one creepy as hell setting followed by another. "Where are we anyway?" The Spitfire aimed her question to the man in charge, putting a voice to something that I'd been wondering about myself.

"It's an old drill that someone left behind," Noland answered, "the machine may be dead, but its power source is still alive and kickin'."

A number of crass jokes, all having to do with drills, came to my mind, but this didn't seem like the time, or the place, to share them, so I let them go. Noland led us onward, eventually coming to a container of some sort, sliding open the door and crawling inside. I could hear the machinery whirring around me as I followed him into the room, finding that I no longer needed Liv's light to see as he flipped a switch and filled the room with a dull illumination…damn…I never would have thought that something as simple as light would make me so happy, but it did.

The place was a dump, no ifs, ands or buts about it; however, it was a dump that was more secure than bunking under the trees, waiting for those alien bastards to pounce, so I wasn't inclined to complain. Everyone followed me inside, looking around, no doubt reaching the same conclusion that I had, a conclusion that San Quentin managed, as always, to sum up in his own eloquent way.

"Damn, talk about a shithole," he said, not bothering to whisper, or for that matter, to lower his voice even a tiny bit…tact just wasn't something that he was familiar with. "You mean to tell us that you actually live here?"

How about that…just when I thought he could sink no lower, he went and proved me wrong…fortunately the crazy guy seemed to have a sense of humor.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, laughing as he spoke. "This is just my summer home. I prefer to pass the winter months in the Riviera…the schools are so much better there. As for the men…ooh, la, la!"

I choked back a snort of laughter, watching the look that came over the convict's face. "Oh, and you're welcome, by the way," Noland continued, and I thought to myself that it was a little rude of us, not to have thanked him, but to do so now would seem insincere.

"How is it that you've managed to survive?" my Spitfire asked, preferring, as always, to get right to the heart of the matter.

Noland bent and wafted the aroma of whatever it was that he had cooking in a pot on a makeshift heat source up to his nose, sighing appreciatively. "I pick up what I can, when I can, from whatever I can."

It was a reasonable answer, and a practice that had obviously served him well. "Oh, yes…I haven't introduced myself properly," he continued, turning his head to look at me. "Noland is my name, Ronald Noland, Air Cavalry," he smiled at me, and then laughed. "Did they drop all of you in, too?"

"Yeah," I replied, which caused him to chuckle again…yep…that was a little creepy.

"Oh, yeah," he said, turning to talk to the empty space beside him. "That was one hell of a rush."

It was at this point that he broke into a rousing humming intro of _Ride of the Valkyries_, which did absolutely nothing to set my mind at ease about the decision to follow, and therefore, trust this nut job.

His odd behavior didn't appear to bother San Quentin all that much, more than likely due to the fact that the convict was a bit of a whacko himself. He picked up the breastplate that Noland had clothed himself in and started hammering on it with his fist, thankfully drawing the other man's attention away from his little concerto.

"Hey," he said, pointing as San Quentin, and then turning once more to his imaginary friend. "Don't worry now," he said, "I'm fixing to set him straight."

He turned to look at the convict, "Hey there, Orange Julius, how's about you do me and my friend a favor and keep your hands off what don't belong to you, alright? There's people around here who's a little particular about people monkeyin' with their shit…and that there's some important shit. It disrupts the heat signature…you ugly as sin motherfuckers."

I might have taken offense at his words, that is if I hadn't noticed his eyes travel upwards, and I deduced that he was aiming that insult at the hunters, who were indeed, a bunch of ugly as sin mofos. "I guess that means that you managed to kill one then, is that right?" I asked him, thinking that was the only way that he could have gotten his hands on their technology.

"Not exactly, friend," he corrected me. "Fact of the matter is that I killed two of them sons of bitches…maybe even three. I get kind of fuzzy of the details of what I've done. What you need to remember is that there's two different types up there…they're similar, but they're also different, kind of like you'd compare a dog to a wolf. The boss aliens, the big ones, they hunt the small ones, some kind of Hatfield and McCoy shit, I guess you could say, that's been going on for a while."

He turned once more and started muttering to the invisible guy, a habit he had that was really starting to piss me off. "So their only purpose in doing this is for the sport of it?" I asked, another idea that got my blood boiling.

"Sure they do," he answered matter-of-factly. "They bring in a load of fresh meat season after season…I've seen shit that would boggle your mind man…they toss you in, hunt you, and kill you…in that order exactly."

"So how long have you been here?" San Quentin asked.

"Hmm…seven seasons, best I can tell," he answered, before being interrupted by Casper and reminded that he'd miscounted.

"What's that you say…ten seasons? Well, shit…anyway, every once in a while one of ours kills one of theirs, and that catches their attention for sure. These assholes modify themselves very easily…they're damn fast at learning, and next thing you know they got a new bag, filled with new tricks, coming back the next season in threes…always in threes. Their armor might change, their weapons might change, and their tactics might change…but they're still the same ruthless killers…it's kind of amazing, if you really think about it."

"So, they evolve with each season that passes, yes?" The Russian asked, "They make themselves more effective, into better killers, is that right?"

"On the money," Noland replied.

"You said that they always come back," I reminded him, "how do they do that?"

"Oh, they got themselves a ship."

"They have a ship?"

"Yeah, a ship…about thirty yards from their camp, I'd say."

He looked to the side and had a little laugh. "You see there," he said, "didn't I tell you that they wouldn't see it?"

"You were there, weren't you?" The Spitfire asked, "You were there, and you could have helped us out, but you didn't."

Noland just stared at her, not answering, but really, what could he have said that would have helped? "Could you tell me how to kill them?" I asked, expecting him to look away from my Spitfire to answer, but he continued to stare at her, and I found that I didn't care for the look that was in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, that's easy…however you can always works best."

She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away. "They must have a frailty of some sort," she said, "everything else does."

"Nah…not too many. If your goal is survival then you'd best dig in deep, make sure to keep yourself hidden…that's the only way to stay alive 'round here."

"No offense intended," San Quentin said, "but I think that we'll all take the prize behind door number two instead. What do we have to do to get out of this valley?"

"Hmm…ten seasons passed me by, and the first two…no, make that three, I walked every day, all day, straight in one direction, doing my best to find my way off of this preserve…but there ain't a way off to be found."

That wasn't what I wanted to hear, no sirree. "Maybe you and your friend would like to fill me in a little further on that ship, if you don't mind."

"You think so?" he answered, "ah, yes…the alien craft. That's a brilliant idea, uh-huh, truly inspired. You know, the whole time I've been here, ten fucking seasons, it never occurred to me once to try for the ship. Too bad I wouldn't know how to fly it, you know, but a man like you…shit…that's a piece of cake, am I right?"

"I'd damn sure give it a shot," I answered, knowing that I'd pissed him off, which wasn't the best idea, considering that he was already crazy, but there was nothing that could be done for that, was there?

"Alright friends…I hate to be remiss in my duties as host, but I'm going to catch a few winks while I can. Make sure you keep the noise down…don't want those assholes hearing you and busting up my home. I've got water over that way and food here in the pot, so feel free to help yourself to whatever you need…all of you."

He climbed into a makeshift bunk and covered himself up, leaving all of us to stand around and stare at one another. In a way, it seemed like things had just gone from bad to worse, and I was starting to think that maybe the aliens would make for better cabin mates than Noland and his invisible friend…yeah, this was shaping up to be a _wonderful_ decision, wasn't it?


	9. Enchained

Chapter Nine

Enchained

Royce's POV

She looked so pretty in the light, dull as it was…ah, hell…who did I think I was kidding? She would have looked pretty even if she was sweaty and dirty, covered from head to toe in scratches and contusions…which was a good thing, because that was exactly the kind of shape that she was in, poor baby, looking downright worn-out, sitting in a corner of the room that she'd sequestered for herself away from the others.

I walked over to her slowly and reached down to hand her a cup of Noland's water, hoping she wouldn't catch dysentery from it, or some other horrific disease. Our new friend wasn't the cleanest person I'd ever known, so chances were good his food and water supplies weren't exactly on par, but then, beggars can't be choosers, can they?

"Thanks," she said, reaching out to take hold of the cup, offering me a smile, a genuine article smile that made her even prettier, something I wouldn't have thought was possible. "Please sit down…make yourself comfortable."

That was exactly what I'd had in mind, and it was nice that she made the offer first, rather than me having to ask. I took a seat, holding a plate filled with Noland's less than appetizing grub, and found myself wishing that there wasn't a bag in between us. I moved as close as I could to her, sitting in front of the bag, hoping that I wasn't too obvious about my need to be near her. It wasn't possible, but I would have sworn that I could still taste her on my lips and feel the warmth from her body on my hand, after that moment side by side in the forest, and would have preferred to sit closer to her, while we had this time to ourselves…ah, well…I guess I'd just have to be content with what I had, wouldn't I?

"Do you know what I was doing when they took me away?" she asked, continuing without waiting for my answer, "I was lining up my first kill in my sights and doing my best to summon the courage to pull the trigger. He was an evil man, responsible for the rape, torture and murder of an eleven year old girl, a monster who'd escaped on a technicality, and even with that knowledge I couldn't make myself kill him…I knew what I was doing was wrong, murder was, _is_, wrong, and now I've taken two lives…do you think that makes me a killer or a murderer?"

There were those who would say that the two were one in the same, but they were mistaken in that belief. "It's not a sin to take the life of someone who is suffering, or of someone who means to harm another," I told her, knowing that was what she was referring to with her question. "In those cases the sin would be to _not_ pull the trigger. As for what you were doing when you were taken…I'd have to say that the little girl had been in a spot where you killing the man who was hurting her would have spared her, so even if you had taken him out, you wouldn't be a murderer…at least not by my definition."

I had been aiming to console her with my words, and I thought that I was successful, to a point, but not enough to chase the shadows completely out of her eyes. "You said that you believe we were chosen," she said, "And I asked you what it was that we were chosen for…but what I should have asked was why."

I took a deep breath, lowering my plate, knowing that one hell of an explanation was headed my way. "We are all predators in our own right," she continued, "just like the beasts hunting us, _we_ are the monsters of our world, who hunt and feed on the lives of others…so it's probably for the best that we'll never leave this planet."

Damn…I wouldn't have taken her for the type to mire herself so completely into what my Gran uses to call 'the depths of despair'. "Speak for yourself honey," I answered, "because I sure as hell don't intend to make this dump my new home. I'm going to find that ship and then I'm going to go back where I belong."

She smiled at me, this one marked with sarcasm. "Is that right? Did you learn to fly when I wasn't looking?"

"No…but that thing tied to that totem back in the camp might know how to fly, and I'm willing to bet that it would do just about anything to be cut loose from its constraints…the old 'enemy of my enemy' trick might work wonders for me."

"It's a nice theory," she answered, "but not one that ensures it will be willing to act as your friend."

She was right, there was no denying her logic, but there was also no denying my determination. "Alright then," she continued, after a few moments had passed with me saying nothing, busying myself with choking down the garbage that Noland passed off as food. "Will you at least tell me what I should call you then, because I'm getting kind of tired of not knowing."

What was it with everybody wanting to know everyone's name…I was happy to remain anonymous myself…there were less complications that way. Ah, hell…what a load of shit…the truth of the matter was that I would've loved to have finally had a name to go with her pretty face, but it really didn't matter what I might want, because something else caught my attention at that moment, a big something else that meant that we were very possibly screwed…I smelled smoke.

Desma's POV

I guess the others hadn't noticed the smoke filling the room because they were exhausted. Some had been sitting quietly, just content to be resting, at least one had been dozing, but all it had taken was a word from The Nose to bring them around, to realize that we were all in trouble. Personally, I'd been too busy admiring The Nose while he sat beside me, eating that horrible mess that Noland called food, trying to work up the courage to flirt with him the way that I wanted to, and wouldn't you know that the moment I finally mustered the nerve to do so he noticed that the room was filling up with smoke? I'd always had the worst luck with the opposite sex…why should he be any different?

We all rushed around the room, arming ourselves, and The Doctor glanced at the spot where our host had gone to get some sleep, the spot that was now empty. "Anyone know where Noland's at?"

The Bear started to cough furiously and ran to the door, doing his best to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. "He told us he was a scavenger," the doctor continued, "and he wants what we have."

Through a hole in the wall I saw Noland crouched on the ground, fanning a flame in front of him while he covered his mouth and nose to protect himself from the smoke. "Don't give up," I said, "there's a way out of here, I know there is. We just have to find it."

No one seemed to be inspired by my words. The doctor was too busy vomiting to pay attention and The Nose was too busy muttering and cursing beneath his breath. Noland was engrossed in an argument with his invisible friend, the crazy bastard, blaming him…it…whatever, for his current predicament. It would appear that he had a hard enough time stomaching the imaginary guy as his roommate, and the idea of six more mouths to feed had sent him over the edge…well…even further over the edge, that is.

The Nose looked mad enough to kill both Noland _and_ his invisible friend with his bare hands, if he could have reached them, an emotion I identified with completely, because I would have had to insist that he share the honor with me, if he'd managed to get his hands on the loony bastard.

"Oh, damn it to hell," I shouted, looking desperately for an alternate way out of the room and finding nothing. It was then that I noticed The Nose standing in front of the grate that allowed us to peek out at Noland, covering his mouth and nose with the bandana he kept tied around his neck, and hefting his shotgun into his arms.

Noland stared at him quizzically, clearly taken aback by his actions. "What can I do for you?" he asked, having the audacity to smile…which I knew was a big mistake.

"It's time to say goodbye to your little friend," The Nose answered, readying his gun, making Noland put two and two together, and it would appear that he didn't much care for the answer he came up with.

"You are in _my_ house motherfucker!" he yelled, rising to his feet and running away once he realized what was just about to happen.

"Everybody get down!" The Nose ordered, and I hit the deck with the others, praying I wouldn't pick up some awful disease from being so close to the filth that covered the ground. He fired through the grate and the sound of the blast reverberated off of the walls and all throughout the ship.

"Oh, man!" The Scorpion shouted rising from the floor, staring at the wall in disgust. "Way to go…you managed to open up jack diddly shit with that shot, tough guy!"

"I wasn't trying to open it, dumbass," he muttered, "that shot was to bring in the cavalry."

He made his way to a table covered with supplies and started filling one of the bags that Noland had stashed here and there, cool and collected while everything went straight to hell all around him.

The Scorpion had decided to throw himself headlong into a full-fledged panic, though whether it was because he had finally figured out what cavalry it was that The Nose had just called in, or because he was claustrophobic, I couldn't say. He went to the door and knelt in front of it, pounding on the metal with his fists.

"I want out of here now," he said desperately, "open this door, you hanky fucker!"

The Nose had found a treasure trove of weaponry and supplies that Noland had collected from those who'd been unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance over the years, and he was just like Santa Claus filling his bag, though all that he had was strictly for naughtiness, with nothing for nice.

I readied my H & K, doing my best not to give in to the urge to panic myself. It wasn't easy, not with the shouting and the banging, and certainly not when we all heard the familiar whir of one of the alien weapons echoing through the hall that Noland had used to escape, followed by a blast that surely signified our crazy host's departure from this planet…good riddance.

The Scorpion continued to hit the door, using his feet after giving up on his hands, begging it to open…and that was when a new banging began, a banging that came from the outside, one that left sharp impressions in the steel of the door…God help us all…that couldn't be good.

We all backed away instinctively, and wouldn't you know, my Nose went into his protective mode once more, placing himself in front of me, and this time it didn't irritate me one damned bit. Again and again the door received a thrashing and finally one corner burst open, releasing a hiss of air into the room, and he placed one hand on my waist and drew me closer, 'til I was pressed right up against him, and we waited for the beast to enter the room…but it never came.

We waited a moment, then The Nose started to approach the door, followed closely by the rest of us, arms at the ready. Suddenly he motioned for us to stay back, throwing a particularly firm glance in my direction, then continued the advance on his own, slowly making his way to the corner where the door had bent and peeked out into the hallway.

I had to remind myself to breathe, because I found that I was holding my breath while I watched him, scared half to death that one of those alien bastards was going to do something horrible to him…and what was worse was that he didn't take a quick look, then back away…he just squatted down next to the door, with his back against the wall, and stuck his face closer to the hole …was he deliberately trying to give me a heart attack or what?

He had a few looks out into the hallway, then stuck a large pistol through the opening and fired it, sending a red flare to brighten the corridor and also to provide cloud of smoke, I guess in the hopes that we might glimpse the monsters better that way, and then he stood and kicked out the door, making his way into the hall, shotgun at the ready, it's light a bright beacon in the gloom.

The Scorpion moved in front of me to ensure that he was the second one out of the room, and once again I felt a tiny ripple of pleasure when I saw The Nose frown at him in disapproval, and he waited until I had emerged before he started on his way down the hall. I found that I was quickly becoming accustomed to having someone watching over me, and oddly enough, the thought really wasn't all that bothersome to me anymore.

He led us into a new hallway and we all followed closely behind, with The Doctor, who was obviously nervous, bringing up the rear, turning several times to look behind, to make sure that no one was following, and I bit my lip against the urge to remind him that he'd never see them coming.

Suddenly The Nose began to run, looking around and apparently recognizing his surroundings, and I forgot all about the jumpy doctor, too caught up in the idea of making it out of that place alive to concentrate on him…and suddenly he called out for us to stop, only he wasn't in the right place…he was in a different hallway than the one that we were in, and there was a wall in between him and the rest of us.

The Bear walked over to look at the doctor, his conscience clearly fighting with his will to live as the other man pleaded for help. I knew that he was a good man, The Bear, I mean, a very good man, and I knew that the doctor was not, I knew that he was a snake in the grass, but good men always wanted to do what was right, even if the one that they were doing it for didn't deserve their kindness…so there was no doubt in my mind that his conscious would win over his own need to escape.

"C'mon," the Nose called to him, seeing the situation as hopeless and the doctor as expendable. "Let's get a move on."

…but The Bear stayed behind, just as I'd known he would.

We continued to run until we reached something that resembled a large manhole cover, a huge one, with holes everywhere and The Nose boosted me up before himself, while once again The Scorpion showed his lack of gallantry and dived through headfirst, doing his best to leave everyone else behind. I struggled through and waited for my protector to make his way through, along with the silent Asian, and then we all stood still as sounds of gunshots echoed behind us, the proof that The Bear was doing his best to save the doctor…I just hoped that he didn't get himself killed doing so. We listened for a moment or two, then continued on our way, and I wondered if anyone else was as worried about The Bear as I was.

Suddenly there was the sound of another shot, one that wouldn't have belonged to him, and the next thing I knew we were joined by one of our team…but not the right one…and I had only a moment to try and absorb the truth of what happened before an explosion sounded, chasing us up out of our prison, nearly catching us as it burst out into the sky.

"I'll be a son of a bitch," The Scorpion said with wonder in his voice. "We killed that alien fucker!"

The stupid bastard…_we_ hadn't done a damn thing…The Bear was the one who'd taken out the alien hunter, but apparently the convict was too absorbed in his celebrations to really sit and think about what had happened. He continued to shout and laugh, dancing around and mouthing off…never taking notice of what was coming up behind him…never hearing the shot that hit him, knocking him to the ground, a shot that was fired by one of the 'alien fuckers'…the one who now had its sights set on my Nose.

I started toward him, my H & K all raring to go, but was stopped by his voice traveling through the wind that blew around us. "Don't even _think_ about it honey," he growled, never taking his eyes off of the hunter, but he may as well have been glaring at me. "Get your sweet little ass back with the others…right _now_."

Normally it would be in my nature to balk at being ordered around by someone I barely knew, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I'd better listen to him, because the consequences for not doing so were liable to be severe. Damn him for being so stubborn and insisting on facing down this monster on his own…just what in hell did he expect me to do with myself if he was dead?

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about that, because The Scorpion decided to show a sudden, and unexpected, burst of bravery, rising from the ground and plunging his homemade shank over and over into the hunter, drawing green blood, screaming various insults at the creature, whose roar of rage hurt my ears.

"Why ain't you running?" he shouted, from his spot atop the creature's back. "Get out of here you dumb sons of bitches…don't worry about me!"

He didn't have to ask us twice…we turned and ran away as fast as we could, and I said a little prayer for him as I did so, asking that his death be mercifully swift, in light of the sacrifice that he'd made. My only answer was yet another angry roar from the hunter, and I took that as a sign that I'd been granted what I'd asked for…I could only hope that the same would be true for the rest of us as well.


	10. Enormity

Chapter Ten

Enormity

Desma's POV

Darkness had fully settled on the planet as we made our way through a large field of waist high grass blowing in the breeze, and it brought to mind that scene out of _The Lost World: Jurassic Park_, only the beasts that might materialize out of the tall grass wouldn't be velociraptors, but massive alien hunters, complete with mandibles and dreadlocks, hell-bent on killing each and every one of us for sport…at least the damned dinosaurs did what they did because they wanted to eat you.

My calves were throbbing by this point, from all of the running, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and my throat was so dry that I could barely swallow, because the water I'd partaken of back in Noland's hovel was a fond, but distant, memory. I would have loved to have taken a break, all I needed was a couple of minutes, but that would put me, and everyone else, a couple of minutes closer to certain death, so I soldiered on, doing my best to ignore the agonies that I was suffering from, keeping my eyes trained on The Nose's cute, albeit flat, ass as he ran ahead of me.

He stopped suddenly, sounding as winded as I felt, and turned around, an action that I mimicked, along with the doctor behind me. The Asian had been running right along with us, bringing up the rear, but now he had stopped, standing still, catching his breath before turning to look back, a determined look on his face. He slowly swung himself around, his sword grasped in his hand, and glanced back once at us, at The Nose, nodding before returning his attention to the open field that we'd just passed through.

"C'mon, honey," The Nose whispered, "we've got to get going."

In my heart I understood what The Asian intended, it was a far more honorable way to die, if one accepted that death was inevitable, that is, to meet it face-to-face rather than having it chase you down. I not only understood his thinking, I admired it as well…I just hadn't reached that point myself.

We made good time out of the field and through the forest, moving in the direction of that horrible death camp once more. "We're getting close," The Nose called over his shoulder. "Don't stop now."

His words, and the knowledge that freedom was in sight strengthened me, encouraged me to move faster, and I did so until I heard a metallic clang behind me, followed by the doctor's cry of pain, and turned to see that he had fallen to the ground, his foot caught up in an alien version of a trap used to ensnare animals. I suppose that was all that we were to them, weren't we, animals to be hunted for sport, the bastards.

I crouched down beside him and held back his hands, keeping him from touching the trap. It was a nasty injury, one that meant he wouldn't be walking out of this place on his own, that much was clear. There was no love lost between the doctor and me, hell, I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, but that didn't mean that I could turn my back on him either.

"Well, this is just fucking great," The Nose said, pacing back and forth, eager to be on his way, but I ignored him, grabbing hold of the trap and doing my best to pry it open. I finally managed to do so, and The Doctor screamed in agony, a shriek followed by a whimpering sob, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, whether he deserved it or not.

"Another inch and I would've been a goner," he said, tears streaming down his face. "It would have hit my tibial artery…I guess that means that this is my lucky day, huh?"

I didn't know why in hell he insisted on running his fingers through my hair while I tended his foot. I suppose he could have been using the action as a way to comfort himself, but I wished he'd stop…it was really starting to creep me out.

"No, it isn't," The Nose answered, "That trap wasn't put there to kill. Its purpose is to maim whatever lucky bastard steps on it…making it to where he has no chance."

I raised my head to look at him in disbelief, knowing _exactly _what he'd meant with his words. "He's nothing but dead weight now," he said, trying to convince me. "Just leave him…there's nothing more that you can do."

I'd had more than my fair share of loss since we'd been dropped onto this planet. I hadn't asked for the opportunity to know any of these guys, but our lives had intersected none the less, and now five of them were dead, five lives whisked away in the blink of an eye. How could he ask me to leave The Doctor behind? How could he be so heartless, and what's more, how could he expect the same from me? I already had so much guilt to live with…I just couldn't take any more.

"Hey…no need to be so hasty," The Doctor said, wiping away his tears. "I can walk out of here…I know I can…just give me a chance."

He tried to stand up, stammering that he would be fine, but as soon as he put his weight on his injured leg he howled in pain and dropped back down to the ground. "He's not going to make it," The Nose told me, his tone setting my teeth on edge. "He's done, there's nothing more that we can do for him. If we take him along, he'll make it a couple of steps, then start begging us to slow down the pace-"

"No, I won't…I promise…"

"Then you'll be asking one of us to carry you the rest of the way, and there's just no way that we can do that."

The Doctor seemed to realize that pleading with The Nose would be of no use to him, so he switched tactics. "You can't just walk away and leave me here," he said, "I have a family back home, kids," he said, pulling a photo of two little ones out of his jacket pocket, "I'm all that they have…you can't leave me here."

"I'm sorry," The Nose told him, and once more The Doctor began to cry, slumped next to me on the ground, while I continued to stare up at my protector in disbelief. "C'mon honey…we need to go."

I'd gotten used to hearing that particular endearment from him, truth be told I'd even started to like it, but now it grated across my nerves and insulted me, that he'd dare to say something so nice to me, in an invitation that I join him and "cut our losses".

I shakily rose to my feet, and The Doctor, who must have interpreted that move as one that said that I was in agreement with The Nose started to protest, demanding that he be taken along, the shouted pleas of someone desperate to live, while I stared at The Nose, shaking my head at him, not sure of what I could say at that point.

"You and I can still make it out of here," he said, reaching out to take my hand. "We can use him, booby-trap him, because they'll stop long enough to take a trophy or two…this is our last chance, dammit."

"Oh, God no," The Doctor whispered, all but whimpering. "Please don't…please, God…no."

I never would have believed him capable of such cruelty, such indifference for the life of another, not my Nose…but here was the proof, shocking as it was. "Will you stop for a minute and just listen to yourself?" I asked, my voice rising with every moment, as my shock threatened toward honest to goodness anger. "He's one of us, it wouldn't be right to leave him behind. As for the rest of your plan…I wouldn't do something so cruel to a dog, let alone a human being!"

"Yes, he is one of us, and that's what these bastards are hoping will hold us back. They are counting on your feelings to interfere with your own desire to live, they are betting that your humanity will overwhelm every other instinct you have, but being human is not going to save you, dammit…and it won't save him either."

"So what does that make you?" I asked, feeling the tiniest tremor in my lip, "because judging by your actions, I'd say that being human is something that you've forgotten about."

"I'm alive…and that's all that I want to be."

Now there was an answer I'd heard recently…from one who met a rather nasty ending after trying to kill us. "And what is that worth to you?" I asked, "If that's all that you have?"

"You can't do this," The Doctor said, crying harder now than before. "Please…I'm begging you…don't do this."

By that point I was crying, well, not technically, but there were tears in my eyes and I definitely _felt_ like crying for the poor man as he begged for his life…as well as for the disappointment that kept rising as a lump in my throat to choke me.

"You should get going," I told The Nose, stifling a curse when my damned lip trembled again. I halfway hoped that he would argue with me, that he would insist on taking both me and The Doctor with him, but that wasn't what happened. Instead he nodded; regret clear on his face, but not enough to trump his driving need to live, no matter what the cost.

I watched him run away as I knelt beside The Doctor, dropping my head to my hand and cursing softly, then I moved to help the only one who remained of my team to his feet, placing my shoulder underneath his arm and standing still while he steadied himself.

"You really should have gone with him, you know?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know," I answered, praying that I hadn't just made the biggest mistake of my life…oh, well…there was no going back now, was there?

Royce's POV

I couldn't wait to get back home, back to what I knew, the reality that meant that my life wasn't constantly in danger, where I had food and water that wouldn't give me one of a variety of diseases whose main symptom was diarrhea, and back to the life where I screwed women who meant absolutely nothing to me, rather than screwing over a woman who meant too damn much to me and having to watch as her eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled when she came to the realization that I was nothing more than a complete waste of skin.

I reached the campground of the alien hunters in record time, and sure enough, the ugly mofo was still tied to his totem, just as he'd been the last time I saw him. I cautiously made my approach, careful to keep Liv out of sight as I did, knowing that it was bound to make the wrong impression, if he saw me making my way toward him with her leading the way.

"Hey," I called softly, stopping in front of him. He slowly raised his head, looking back at me with some creepy looking eyes, resting on top of the even creepier, downright alarming mouth, surrounded by mandibles that twitched as he watched me. For a moment we just stared one another down, then I reached up and drew out my machete, and he growled at me, as a warning, as a challenge…I couldn't be sure.

"I need to get off of this planet," I told it, "do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

It didn't answer, not even with a growl or a grunt, but I wasn't giving up. "I will free you; I will cut you down…if you'll take me to that ship."

_That_ got a response, one that was a growl, and a flaring of its mandibles that sent an unpleasant trickle down my spine. "I guess you do understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

The damned thing cocked its head to the side and growled again, reminding me a little of a dog…a very big, very ugly pooch. It was more than a little disturbing, that imagery was, and before I could change my mind I ran forward and struck the chain holding him captive with my blade, cleaving it apart and causing him to drop down to the ground…damn…I hope he didn't hold that particular part against me, because it had to have hurt, doing a face plant into the dirt from that height.

It promptly rose to its feet and grabbed hold of me around my neck, pulling me in for an up close and personal glimpse of its mandibles, as well as a nose full of its breath, which I would be willing to swear was a mixture of moldy meat, vomit, and dog shit…yep…it _definitely_ held its fall against me.

For several moments it held me there, tightening its hold on my neck, growling menacingly, then it pushed me away…maybe it had second thoughts about eviscerating me…God I hoped so.

Desma's POV

The Doctor and I plodded along, both exhausted and both out of breath, and while I had no idea what thoughts might have been occupying his mind, I knew with a certainty what it was that I was thinking about, and found myself wishing that I truly had the ability to cause pain of some sort to The Nose with my musings. All that time I'd wasted, trying to pretend that I wasn't attracted to him, then once I finally convinced myself that it was okay to like him, he'd gone and proven himself to be a lily-livered maggot…but what else had I expected, really, given my luck in life?

The Doctor was getting to be a very heavy burden on my arm, and I just couldn't keep myself from grunting in pain every now and then, no matter how I tried to stifle the noise. "I'm so sorry," he said, for what had to be the hundredth time, and I quickly added him to the list of things that pissed me off, though he ran a very distant second to The Nose.

"We're not dead yet, Doc," I wheezed, "so don't give up, okay?"

I had discovered that there was a lot of irony to be found on this cursed planet, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when a net materialized off of the ground as we tripped it, raising up with a flash of blue light, capturing us with no effort whatsoever…just when I'd started to entertain the notion that things were at their lowest point, I quickly realized they hadn't been, not yet, but as I struggled against the hold of the net, staring down at the ground, and watched one of the monsters slowly, but surely, making his way in our direction, I realized that this was what the beginning of the lowest point felt like.

Royce's POV

The alien quickly went to work, outfitting and arming himself with a variety of gadgets, using the one on his arm to show me a holographic projection of several planets before settling on Earth, and I wasn't the least bit ashamed to feel my eyes well up when I looked at it, my home, glowing in front of me. He pressed the button again and the planet disappeared, and a short distance from the camp a ship materialized…my ticket back to where I belonged.

Desma's POV

I guess that I should have been glad that the creature didn't immediately kill us, but it was hard to be grateful when you're being dragged along the ground in a net, then carelessly tossed off of the ground, down into a pit…it's not an experience that necessarily brings to mind thoughts of being happy that you're still breathing…because you're too busy having the breath knocked from your body.

Royce's POV

Everything was going just fine, dandy, as a matter of fact, until one of the other ugly mofo's showed up, the one that had taken out San Quentin, as a matter of fact, and then everything went straight to hell. It was obvious that the new guy was pissed, and it was no wonder, considering the fact that his alien prisoner was up, wandering around, and offering assistance to one of the trophies. Therefore, it had to come as quite a blow when the captive moved to place itself in front of me; protecting me…I know it shocked the hell out of me, that was for sure.

It had to come as an even bigger jolt when the captive pressed a button on his wrist and brought the ship that I intended to commandeer back home to life, and the hunter expressed his disbelief with a roar of outrage, one that I'd heard before, but which still managed to make my heart thump faster out of fear, none the less. I didn't waste any time on giving in to the fear, I just turned and ran, grateful for the pissing contest being waged between the creatures that gave me a window of opportunity.

Desma's POV

Most of the time I didn't mind being short. The only time it caused me to complain was when I needed something off of the top shelf in the market…and when I was doing my best to crawl out of a pit, knowing that an alien hunter would return at any moment to finish me off. The Doctor was of no help, injured as he was, though I imagined he'd be just as useless even if both of his legs worked fine…he just wasn't one who gave one hundred percent when it came to anything that was strenuous or physical, even if doing so meant the difference between life or death.

Royce's POV

I hauled ass through the forest, my heart racing from the strain, but mainly from excitement, knowing that my liberation was in sight. I reached the edge of the trees, where the ship hovered in a clearing, lighting the grass beneath it, and thought that it had to be the most beautiful thing that I'd seen in a long time…well…almost.

I turned away from the ship and stared back through the trees, thinking of my little Spitfire, remembering the tears in her eyes, the ones that she'd refused to shed in front of me, and of the way her lip had trembled, and I faltered…what if I was making the biggest mistake of my life…and for just a moment, I swore that I heard her voice, over the roar of the ship, but then it was gone, and I started to run once more.

Desma's POV

The ground began to shake and dirt fell in all around us as the roar from the rising ship filled the air, signaling The Nose's departure from this planet…and from my life. I was still infuriated at him, for his lack of humanity and for what I saw as the ultimate in betrayal, but at the same time I couldn't help but think that maybe it wasn't him…maybe it was them.

"Do you think he made it?" I whispered, shuddering when I heard the roar of one of the monsters, one that was still amongst us.

"I don't know," The Doctor replied. "Tell me something, please, if you had the chance to do it all over again, would you still make the same choice?"

I turned around and looked at him, "Yes, I would," then returned my attention back to the sky, watching for the ship to fly overhead.

"Thank you for that," he said, and I turned to look at him again, thinking to myself that this was not the ending I'd had in mind, not by a long shot.

"When the time comes around, I'll do both of us," I told him, thinking that it would be a preferable way to die, over whatever it was that the hunter had in mind. I turned my back on him once more, not wanting to look at his eyes anymore, not with that pledge hanging in the air between us. "I promise that it will be over with quickly."

I never should have taken my eyes off of him…I should have known better, given my first and subsequent impressions of him as a man. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but I'm afraid that's not quite true."

I felt his arm curve around my neck, felt the sting of the blade as it sliced into my chest…that damned scalpel of his. I guess I'd underestimated its potential as a dangerous weapon, hadn't I…just as I'd underestimated him. I staggered toward him, and then stumbled back; losing all sense of movement as my thoughts jumbled together and my limbs went to sleep.

The little bastard was smiling at me, his eyes dancing. "That's right," he said, his voice distorting as it reached my ears. "It's a very potent neurotoxin…this place is just _ripe_ with choices in that area. There's no reason for you to be alarmed…it's not fatal, so you'll receive the full benefit of our time together, I promise you that."

I desperately tried to grasp my H & K, to arm myself, but it was a futile effort, I found, as I fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Suddenly there was an explosion that rocketed through the sky…the ship…the one I'd been waiting to see…it was gone.

"Oh, isn't that sad?" The Doctor said, laughing as he moved closer to me. "I guess it's pretty clear now, why these fuckers chose me, isn't it? The kicker is that I was right there, right in front of you the whole time, biding my time, watching your every move, securing your trust, and you never truly saw what I was…kind of pathetic, isn't it, now that you think about it? Back home, I was a murderer, an abomination, but not here…here, with all of the monsters, _I'm_ the normal one, and I have to say that I like it here, and I've decided to stay."

Damn, he did like the sound of his own voice, didn't he? There was one thing I knew for sure…I _definitely_ regretted my decision now, and would reverse it in a heartbeat if I could, but that ship had already sailed…or had it?

Through the haze, through the images and sounds that faded in and out, over The Doctor's shoulder as he made his way toward me, scalpel raised I saw it, or rather, I saw him…the one who protected me, the one who would save me, the one who _hadn't_ left…my Nose…and he was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen in my whole life.


	11. Encouragement

Chapter Eleven

Encouragement

Desma's POV

All of my life I had been someone who cried easily, not out of petulance or as an attempt to inspire guilt in someone who'd been mean to me, but truly because my feelings were easily bruised, sometimes even damaged, but after years of being teased and having my emotions used against me I became someone who hardly ever cried, refusing to do so unless I was safe and sound and away from any and all who might see my tears and ridicule me. To sob was to show weakness, to admit that you weren't strength personified down to the marrow of your bones was a failing, yet here I was, on the verge of an emotional downpour once more…all over this one man, my protector, who peered down into the pit where The Doctor and I were being held, meeting my eyes over the other man's shoulder, the man who meant to kill me, and again, I couldn't remember a sight that was sweeter than that one.

I closed my eyes for a moment, certain that I had imagined him, certain that I was only seeing the deepest desires of my heart, which chose to play a trick on my mind and my eyes, but when I looked again I saw that he _was_ there, my Nose was, he hadn't left me, and he was looking at me in a way that left no doubt in my mind what was in his heart. It was a sight that would have inspired me to jump and shout in jubilation, had I been capable of either, but as it was I couldn't move and I couldn't speak…I couldn't even warn him.

Several seconds passed by with the two of us just staring at one another, and I hoped that my eyes were conveying to him the same emotions that I saw looking back at me, because at that moment I realized that it didn't matter that we hardly knew one another, in fact we may as well have been strangers since I didn't even know his name, but nothing that had transpired on this accursed planet mattered, the only important thing was that he was there, he had come back for me, and I was determined to live, no matter what, so I could tell him how much I needed him, how much I wanted him, and that I'd be happy to follow him anywhere…if I could only live long enough to do so.

The Doctor finally caught onto the fact that both he and his scalpel no longer had my undivided, terror-stricken attention, and with a frown he turned to find out who it was that had interrupted us, and found himself staring up at The Nose. The look on his face at that moment was absolutely priceless, and with a speed I never would have believed he was capable of he hid the scalpel out of sight and offered a falsely cheerful greeting to the other man.

"Oh, hey…how about that," he called, "you decided to come back, huh?"

The Nose stared down at him with no expression on his face and I found myself wondering what it was that he was thinking. Damn him…this was no time for that stoic bullshit he was so fond of. "Yep," he answered, "I got the time wrong and missed my ride…isn't that just a kick in the ass?"

The Doctor giggled nervously in response, "Oh, well, thank God for that…now you can help us out of this hole."

Again, The Nose found my eyes with his, and his gaze softened considerably, though there was anger to be seen as well. The next thing I knew he'd lowered a net, the same one that had captured us earlier, into the pit and instructed The Doctor to secure it beneath my arms and using that he bodily hauled me up out of the hole.

I was all deadweight, since I was paralyzed and all, but I still didn't think that was any reason for him to carry on the way that he was, acting like I weighed a ton, for goodness' sake. In all fairness, he made the same noises as he was pulling the doctor, who was an absolute beanpole, out of the pit as well, so that soothed me somewhat…not a lot…but somewhat…jeez…what a stupid thing to be thinking of at a time like that, wouldn't you agree?

The Nose kneeled down on the ground to attend to me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw The Doctor watching us, that murderous look in his gaze once more. "I'm afraid that she's paralyzed," he explained, offering a reason for my inability to move or speak. "The monster gave something to her, I couldn't say what, for certain, but it paralyzed her."

The lying little bastard…I would have liked to have had my arms and hands back so that I could strangle him, but that was out of the question, at least for the time being. The Nose put his shoulder under my arm and helped me up onto my feet…not that I could feel them…and then he started to lead me away, carrying me along, whispering to me that everything was going to be just fine…which I thought was a nice sentiment, even if it wasn't true.

"Come on, honey babe," he said encouragingly, "don't give up on me now. I know I already let you down, but I'm here now, and I won't ever leave you again."

My damned feet refused to work, and I panicked when I felt my H & K slide off of my useless arm, crashing down onto the ground. I wanted to tell him to stop, to go back, but the words wouldn't come, and the next thing I knew he was lifting me for one wonderful moment into his arms, then setting me down gently on the ground, kneeling beside me once more, as his big hands cradled my face, and turned my head from side to side while he studied me.

"Ah, honey, you get yourself so damned busy taking care of everyone else that you forget to take care of yourself, don't you?"

It seemed like he was unwilling, or unable, to keep himself from touching me, and I reveled in the feel of his hand on my face, cupping, caressing, over and over, but I was also gripped by fear, by the need to warn him, an effort that escaped me in meaningless whimpers of fear.

"Shush, baby," he said comfortingly, "we're going to get out of here, you just hang on, alright?"

Over his shoulder I could see the doctor approaching, looking at The Nose in that same way that he'd been looking at me down in the pit, after he'd cut me. "You know, to be perfectly honest, I'd made up my mind that there was no way that you'd come back, but not her…oh, no…she never stopped believing in you…I guess that means that I owe you an apology, doesn't it?"

He was letting him get too close…his back was turned and he was too busy comforting me, and now he was letting the little snake get too close. I gasped and my whimpers became more desperate, more insistent, as I begged him with my eyes to turn around, but he didn't listen to me.

"I guess you're one of the good guys after all," The Doctor continued, his scalpel sliding down into his hand. "Aren't you?"

"Not really," The Nose said, smiling for just a moment as he looked at me. "I'm not," and quick as a flash he turned and grabbed The Doctor's arm, taking immediate control of the situation. He bent The Doctor's arm back and buried the blade of the scalpel into the other man's chin, as deeply as it would go, "What I am is fast, Doc, I'm fast and I could smell the stink on your story a mile away."

He twisted the blade back and forth, and wicked as it was I couldn't help but feel a grim satisfaction listening to The Doctor as he choked and sputtered, a fulfillment that grew when I saw his blood pouring out from between his lips, making its way down his chin, and onto The Nose's hand. I found myself gasping with relief in those moments, knowing that there was at least one monster that wouldn't bother me any further.

The Doctor dropped to the ground, still sputtering and choking on his blood, only to have my Nose grab hold of him by the scruff of his shirt and drag him away, his bloody gasping joined by pleas to be shown mercy, begging my protector not to take his life, and the last thing I heard was The Nose answering that he had no intention of killing him. The Doctor undoubtedly found solace, at least for the time being, in those words, but I heard what it was that laid beneath them, and thought to myself that death might be something that The Doctor begged for, before all was said and done.

I lost sight of them as they disappeared into the trees and when The Nose came back, he was alone, and immediately went to work arming the camp, laying out a variety of booby traps, aided in his work by the goodies that he'd requisitioned back in Noland's hovel. It was quite a sight, watching him as he scurried about; hard at work…I only hoped that he would have time to finish before the monster returned.

Royce's POV

Everything was going swimmingly, all according to plan, which was a miracle, when you took into consideration that it was a completely half-assed plan to begin with. The hunter had made its way back into the camp, not even bothering with its camouflage any longer, and after scanning the area it found exactly what I wanted it to…the traitorous Doctor, bound and injured, the perfect bait to reel the monster in.

I suppose that it would have been the decent thing, the humane thing, for me to feel at least a small bit of sympathy and regret for The Doctor when the alien used its blade to ascertain whether or not the man was alive or dead, plunging it into his back in order to do so, but I was just a little short on compassion where the little bastard was concerned at that moment. He'd been intent on killing The Spitfire, _my_ Spitfire, and would have succeeded had I not returned when I did, so as far as I was concerned, _nothing_ would be too cruel of a punishment, and eventually, of a death, where the little maggot was concerned.

A few more moments passed by, and I thought that maybe The Doctor was speaking to the hunter, possibly pleading, maybe making an excuse for himself…I knew that he'd better not be warning the monster, otherwise I'd see that he suffered a horrific amount of pain before he drew his last breath. In the end I realized that his words would just have to remain a mystery, because the monster reached out and turned him over, more than likely so that he could gut him, and in doing so pulled the pins out of the necklace of grenades that I'd placed around The Doctor's neck, blowing the sick fuck straight into Hell and sending the hunter flying back to land with a crash…now, wasn't that a pretty sight?

A few seconds passed by while the alien bastard rose shakily to his feet and regained his bearings, and when he did come back to himself I was there, standing beside him, waiting for a chance to say hello. I'd removed my shirt and smeared mud all over myself, so chances were good all he was picking up on was the torch that I held in my hand, the flame hot against my bare skin, but that was all that I wanted him to see, to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that someone was there, but nothing else beyond that.

"That's right, Ugly," I whispered, "it's time for us to get past the handholding and on to the main event, wouldn't you agree?"

I tossed the torch onto the ground, "You wanted to kill me so badly earlier, well here's your chance to do it."

The fire took hold of trees and various memories of death scattered behind me, and the flames were uncomfortably hot on my back as they flared to life. "Come on and kill me," I continued to taunt, "what's the matter, did you change your mind or what?"

Apparently the hunter had taken all that it could stand of my teasing and started in my direction. "Aw, shit," I hissed and got my legs moving, running as fast as I could, which was really a pretty good clip…there really was nothing better than having a murderous alien on your ass to get you up to speed. I weaved in and out of the flames, knowing that they would help to throw it off of my trail…and it would appear that my plan was successful, if the monster's roar, filled with rage, was any indication.

My cloaking via flames worked so well that I was able to run up to the hunter and bash it in the face with a bone that I'd found in the camp, one of many, before disappearing again…returning and striking numerous times, fueling all of my fear and my aggression into each blow, then hurrying to take shelter behind a tree, while the monster did its best to shake off the beating I'd just delivered.

I could hear the damned thing growling softly, standing still, more than likely scanning the area, and tried to stay as quiet as I possibly could while I caught my breath and did my best to slow my heart, which was galloping like a racehorse in my chest…and that's when I heard it's weapon come to life, and realized that my heartbeat had just given me away.

"Aw, fuck me," I gasped, dashing away, though not as quickly as I needed to, thinking to myself that I'd underestimated the bastard as the explosion rocketed behind me…yep…I'd picked one hell of a time to get cocky, don't you think?

Desma's POV

The explosion woke me, not from a sleep, exactly, put more like a trance, and I found my eyes traveling around as I searched for my Nose…and they found him lying on the ground a short ways away from me, struggling to get to his feet. I began to struggle myself, against the odds and the paralysis that still gripped my body, knowing that he needed me, this man who'd done so much for me was in need of my help, and I'd be damned if I was going to let him down.

I glanced away from him and saw my H & K resting on the ground, again only a short distance away, though it may as well have been a mile for me in my condition. It was going to be hard, no doubt about that, but one thing I'd been raised with was the firm belief that quitting was tantamount to a sin as grievous as blasphemy in the Reed household, and it wasn't a practice that I had ever, or would ever, take up, so I did the only thing that I could do at that point…I flipped myself over onto my tummy and started the long crawl toward my firearm.

I heard The Nose scream behind me, I heard the thud as he hit the ground, no doubt flung through the air by the monster, but I didn't look back, I didn't stop, I kept going until I reached my rifle…my Nose had saved my life so many times since we'd landed on this godforsaken planet…it was time that I returned the favor.

Royce's POV

I was having a hard time breathing, as a matter of fact it felt like a four hundred pound woman was laying on top of me, riding me like a bucking bronco, not that I'd ever actually experienced anything like that personally, but I have a pretty good imagination and could presume that finding myself on the receiving end of that sort of experience would feel exactly like what I was going through at that moment.

One minute I was lying on my stomach, doing my best to catch my breath, watching my Spitfire force herself into action, and then the next I was being grabbed by the back of my neck and flung bodily through the air, landing with enough force that it served to push the remainder of the breath from my body.

I tried to get up as the monster made its way toward me, but all that I could do was scurry backwards on the ground, which was both infuriating and embarrassing to me. If this was the way that I was going to go out, then I at least wanted to meet it on my feet…I guess we didn't always get what we wanted, did we?

It certainly wasn't going to be the first time that I took a beating, hell, I'd had my ass handed to me on a platter more times then I cared to remember throughout my life, but damn, I was already suffering, and the kicks to the jaw and punches to the ribs only served to add insult to injury…apparently I'd been a little _too_ successful at pissing the hunter off, wouldn't you agree?

Desma's POV

My H & K had never been an easy load for me, but I'd always told myself that the weight, almost eighteen pounds, would work wonders for the muscles in my arms…that was all fine and good when I wasn't recovering from an up close and personal encounter with a neurotoxin, but now, with my body not quite operating as it should, the weight may as well have been a ton.

Finally I managed to lift the weapon into my arms, bound and determined that I would do so or die trying, and fought with my fingers to make them trace the trigger. It was quite an ordeal, because they seemed to have no desire whatsoever to bend, and I cursed, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes, as I struggled. I could see that things were getting out of hand for The Nose, and the monster would surely kill him if I wasn't able to save him.

The hunter had taken hold of my protector by his throat and was slowly, chokingly, drawing him up off of the ground, releasing his blade from the sheath on his wrist, raising it menacingly into the air…and finally my fingers cooperated with me. Amazingly I was able to raise the rifle, bringing the scope to my eye, and after taking quick aim I fired…it was a good shot, one that threw him back away from The Nose, one that had vile neon green hued blood flowing out of its chest…one that drew the attention of the monster to me.

It turned the blade protruding from its wrist toward me and the next thing I knew it had hit me, driving itself into my flesh, just below my shoulder, bringing with it a pain unlike any I'd ever known in my life. I fell back against a log that was lying on the ground, gasping for breath as the agony seemed to radiate from the spot where I'd been hit outward down my arm and chest and upward to my neck, all the way to my jaw.

Royce's POV

I was very grateful for the fact that my Spitfire was able to move, I was even more grateful for the fact that she had done so in order to save my life, but I was having a hard time dealing with the fact that in doing so she'd been shot with the business end of the alien hunter's blade…as a matter of fact the sight of her slumped against that log, gasping for breath filled me with rage, a strengthening fury that brought renewed determination forth to course through me…the bastard had done it now…he'd messed with the wrong person, and that wasn't something that I'd forget anytime soon, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

I hadn't been happy, taking a beating myself, but I would have rather taken a thousand beatings then see her hurt, and it was an affront that served to bolster me into rolling over and taking hold of an axe laying on the ground beside me, an axe that I used to knock the mask off of the ugly mofo's face, revealing him in all of his gruesome terror, a countenance that I made even more ghastly with numerous blows from the axe, allowing my rage to spill out of me in the wallops, smiling grimly as its alien blood gushed forth from its skull…and from the place where it's left arm had once rested.

Slowly it raised its head and growled at me, defiant to the end, something I would have admired at any other time, in any other place, but which now only inspired me to finish what I'd started, which I did, with one final blow that split the creature's neck, opening it in a wide yawn, that continued to grow until the hunter's head became too heavy to hold and it peeled off with one last gush of its alien blood, and the headless warrior sank to the ground, dead at last.

I took a deep breath, filled with relief, then stumbled and sank to my knees. It was over…finally…it was through, and miracle of miracles, I was still breathing…I guess that old saying about wonders never ceasing was true.

Desma's POV

I was still alive…that was the only explanation for the pain that I was in…either that or I had died and gone to Hell, which would account for both the pain and for the flames around me…but I was more inclined to believe that I was still alive…at least, I hoped I was, because my Nose was slowly walking toward me, looking like he hurt as much as I did, maybe even more. After what seemed like an eternity had passed, he reached me, dropping down to his knees in front of me, and I found myself thinking through my haze of pain that it was a sight that I could get used to, that I could love, as a matter of fact, him kneeling in front of me.

I was happy to see him, overjoyed as a matter of fact, but not so happy that I didn't grimace with pain when he reached out to take hold of the hunter's blade protruding from my shoulder. "Did you get it?" I gasped, "did you kill the bastard?"

"Yeah, honey," he said, smiling at me, "I both got _and_ killed it…there's no need for you to worry anymore, okay?"

Amazingly enough, despite my pain, I was able to smile at him in return…I even managed a little giggle, which served to make the smile on his face grow even larger. "By the way," he said, "my name is Royce…just in case you wanted to know."

Royce…it was a nice name, a sturdy and strong name, just like him…though, to me, he'd always be my Nose. "I'm happy to know you Royce," I answered, "I'm Desma…just in case _you_ wanted to know."

Royce's POV

Desma…it was a pretty name, one that fit her very well and I thought to myself that I'd probably call her Desi…but to me she'd always be my Spitfire. I reached out my hand and cupped her cheek, and slowly lowered my head, ignoring every pain screaming through my body as I pressed my lips against hers.

There were a lot of mouths that I had kissed in my time, but for the life of me I couldn't remember another that had felt so soft, so right, nor could I recall another time that something as simple as a kiss, just that effortless contact, had caused such a reaction to take hold of my heart…it was scary, but it felt so good that I didn't waste any time obsessing over what I was getting myself into. I was already in this spot with her, and there was nowhere else that I'd rather be.

Amazingly enough she kissed me back, returning each hesitant stroke of my lips with one of her own, then she shocked…and pleased…me when she shyly parted her lips and stroked me with the tip of her tongue…oh, damn…if she could do what she did to me with something so innocent as the feel of her tongue against my lips, what would it do to me when we really got down to the heart of things…the pleasure might be strong enough to do me in altogether.

Oh, well…what a way to go, am I right?

* * *

We sat still in the camp together, each wrapped in the arms of the other, taking our rest while the sun rose once more in the sky…bringing with it a sight that filled us both with fear as we rose to our feet. It was a sight that we recognized, but it's familiarity did absolutely nothing to lessen our trepidation.

Parachutes…too many to count, burst open in the sky, bringing with them cargo of all different sizes, and I knew, as well as she did, that the pursuit was starting all over again, that three hunters would be on the loose…and it also meant that there'd be a new ship to hijack…the one bright spot in the murk of the shit-storm surrounding us, I guess you could say.

"Alright, honey," I said, tightening my arm around her. "Let's find our way off this planet."

~The End~


End file.
